Special Investigations Division: Revolution
by Loki's Son
Summary: Revolution is breaking out on the planet Bolshevik. Will the "worker's paradise" be consumed in flames? The SID team is sent in but will they prevent disaster or will they join the revolution?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or its related properties. All such rights and considerations belong to CBS/Paramount.**

**This is the 17th installment of the _Special Investigations Division_ series. I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

It was moving day for Outbound Ventures, Inc. The corporate and business offices were to remain on Barrinor. The ships and crews relocated to _Serenity Station_. Several of them, like Brin Macen and T'Kir, retained a residence on Barrinor for holidays.

Ephrim Zyrain was the new station administrator. He'd headed up other civilian stations in the past. This was his first posting with an armed station. Fortunately, the station wasn't expected to have to defend itself. It was merely a precaution after the Solarian attacks on Outbound Ventures.

Each ship was assigned a permanent berth. The crews received their living assignments at the airlock. Personal property would be offloaded and placed in pre-assigned cargo bays.

* * *

Macen and T'Kir were reviewing their quarters. T'Kir made a face, "It's so…_Cardassian_."

The irony wasn't lost on Macen. He'd served in the Federation's Border Wars. Afterwards he'd joined Ro Laren and T'Kir in the Maquis. Since the Dominion War, he'd lead a Starfleet Special Investigations Team.

Macen had already survived over four hundred traumatic years and, as an El-Aurian, he was expected to live quite a few more. His time in Starfleet had been good. His meeting T'Kir had been better and his marriage to her was wonderful…bumpy but wonderful.

Macen had retired from Starfleet by duress. It was that or face a General Court Martial. Since that time he had worked as a privateer. The Special Investigations Division was his biggest client.

Macen had survived several incarnations of the SID. It had begun as a regular forces unit. It had then transformed itself into a mixed irregular and regular forces agency. Now it was strictly an irregular forces outfit.

Over a dozen privateer crews were employed by the SID. It was a lucrative contract. Macen wanted for nothing. Starships, latinum, and weapons were his for the asking.

Starfleet Intelligence's Special Projects Yards equipped all of their vessels. Officially, the SPYards did not exist and would never exist. Similarly, SI's Q Branch did not exist. Q Branch supplied SI agents, SOCOMM operatives, and the SID with specialised equipment. It was generally one of kind technology and was considered extremely sensitive and valuable.

Macen smiled as he addressed his wife, "T'Kir, you approved of building a _Nor_-class station."

"Reluctantly." T'Kir groused, "You and Claudia talked me into it."

Claudia Tyrol was Outbound Ventures' CEO. While Macen and T'Kir owned the company, Tyrol actually ran it. Building a sister station to _DS9_ had been her idea.

"The price was right." Macen reminded T'Kir.

She stuck out her tongue at him, "Nyuh!"

Macen responded with a loving gaze and smile. T'Kir was an exception to every rule. A passionate Vulcan who'd been raised under the tenets of Sybok, she found fulfilment in emotional expression.

T'Kir's nearly limitless telepathy had opened her mind to entire solar systems. As a result, she'd lost her sanity. Although her abilities had been pared down to controllable levels, she'd never fully recover.

Dealing with his own traumatic issues, Macen found an anchor in T'Kir. T'Kir, adrift amongst her own personal demons found an anchor in Macen. In a strange way, their psychoses balanced each other out.

Changing the subject, Macen asked, "Do you want to see if our belongings are aboard yet?"

"Yah." T'Kir replied, "We gotta do somethin' `bout this dump."

Laughing, Macen escorted her out of their new living area.

* * *

Radil Jenrya dropped by the Infirmary. She still bore the scars of Abby Collins' death but Kort had seen her through the worst of it. Having finished unpacking her belongings she wanted to check in on the newly appointed station CMO.

Kort saw her and beamed, "Jenrya, come in."

The Klingon looked and acted like a proud parent despite the fact that his facilities were in utter chaos. The Medical staff, like all station personnel, had moved in a week ago. Owing to shipping mistakes, the Infirmary had fared far reaching delays.

Radil had to admit to her self that she was pleased that Kort was here. Despite their tumultuous past, he'd proven himself to be her greatest friend. His enthusiasm at seeing her was infectious.

"It looks like a disaster in here." The Bajoran said.

Kort chuckled, "You should have seen it a few hours ago. The supply freighters arrived an hour before the mass migration started."

"Yeah, it's been crazy." Radil ruefully commented.

"I'm due for a break." Kort announced, "Would you like to grab a drink at the replimat?"

"I'd love to, kind sir." She replied.

Kort offered her an arm and she accepted it. They strolled out of the infirmary arm in arm.

* * *

Celeste Rockford looked around her quarters. She was quite pleased with herself. She'd arrived in her runabout and had unloaded most of its contents.

She was happy to finally have a place she could call home. She'd been living inside of her runabout for several months now and that was getting old in a hurry. Of course, if she weren't a fugitive from Barrinoran justice, it wouldn't have been a problem.

Rockford sighed. She hadn't even been convicted of anything; she'd just been dumped in prison. Her escape had cost a life and that prevented her from pleading her case in Barrinor's court system.

However, Barrinor was now part of the Federation and she could appeal to a higher court. Of course, she'd assumed a new identity and it was one of a respected Federation citizen. She supposed if she didn't rock the boat she'd make out okay. At least she hoped she would.

Taking one last look around she ascertained that everything was where she wanted it. Leaving her quarters, she sought company. She just wasn't sure whose door she should knock on first.

* * *

Gantz surveyed Dracas' rooms. They were decorated in classical Roman style with Greek trappings. Asian and African influences were present as well.

Dracas was a native of Magna Roma. That world had recently rejected him, placing him under eternal exile. It all stemmed from the simple fact that he was a clone. More to the point he was the clone of an alien to Magna Roma. The Ardannian Troglyte, Hal Dracas, had been his progenitor.

Like the previous Dracas, Joachim served with the SID team and as the Chief Engineer of the _SS Obsidian_. The _Nova_-class surveyor served as Macen's command. She'd been through hell and always gave her best. The crew was attached to her and would give their lives defending her.

Dracas sat his armour on the couch. He no longer wore the Star Legion's livery. He was no longer a serving officer. Now he wouldn't serve even if he'd been given a choice.

As if sensing his thoughts, Gantz said, "Let's go find an eatery. I'm hungry."

Dracas mulled it over. He considered Gantz. The Acamarian had begun life as a Gatherer. When his clan chose to forsake piracy, he traipsed off and became one of the quadrant's foremost bounty hunters.

Versed in dozens of languages and planetary laws, Gantz had grown tired of his career and his life. He was about to try the solitude of retirement when Macen had approached. Gantz had listened and been swayed by Macen's convictions.

Macen dreamt of a brighter tomorrow. A future encompassed by a peaceful union of all the stellar nations in the galaxy. All monitored by a benevolent cadre of philosopher-guardians: the Seekers of Truth. It was a dream worth fighting for.

Macen was laying the groundwork for such a movement here within the Federation. The SID were his recruits and the future was his horizon. Gantz could see the dream and he wished he could be there for the end but not even Macen would survive long enough to see the fruit of his labour.

It was a dream that Dracas was just starting to embrace. Up until recently he had served Macen out of obligation to Alaric Caesar. Now, he was serving of his own volition and he found Macen's goals to be laudable.

"All right." Dracas agreed, "There are several restaurants aboard. Which would you care to sample?"

"I dunno." Gantz admitted, "Let's just follow our noses, shall we?"

Dracas was nonplussed but he agreed and they set out.

* * *

The door opened to reveal Rockford on the other side. T'Kir ushered her in, "What's up, _chica_?"

"Nothing much." Rockford answered, "I finished unpacking and I realised that I wanted to hang out with someone."

T'Kir grinned, "Wanna see what Hannah's up to?"

"Sure." Rockford agreed.

"Honey, I'm leavin'. Decorate wisely." T'Kir departed before Macen could protest.

"He hates it when I d'that." T'Kir confided as they headed down the corridor, "But he'll forgive me."

"You hope." Rockford replied.

"Yup." T'Kir bubbled.

* * *

Hannah Grace let loose of a forlorn sigh. She'd been placing her pictures of Ian Delaney. It just served to remind her of how much she missed him.

Delaney was the Tactical Officer aboard the _USS Intrepid_. Like the _Obsidian_, the _Intrepid_ frequently served in the hottest zones. A designated troubleshooter for Starfleet, the _Intrepid _faced more than its fair share of action.

Grace and Delaney had only been a couple for a little over a year now. Theirs had been a rollercoaster relationship until lately. Now everything seemed out in the open with no more secrets being kept.

Despite all appearances, Grace wasn't human. She was a Kelvan, one of the first generation of Kelvans born in the Milky Way Galaxy. She'd crossed the quadrant and joined Starfleet.

Her Starfleet career had led her to the SID. She'd served as Macen's helmsman and pilot ever since. Her enhanced physique, superior reflexes, mental discipline, and senses made her a formidable opponent in the cockpit or out.

She'd lost her Attuner, the device that allowed Kelvan to reshape molecular structures. However, after much focus and determination, she was learning to harness her innate abilities without her Attuner. She regretted the loss of both her Attuner and the power source that went with it but she was making progress.

She hadn't shared this fact with Delaney. She'd only had her first successful application of her abilities in the field. She wanted to be certain of her facts before she alerted him.

She felt guilty for keeping the fact from Macen and T'Kir. Macen had shown incredible patience in giving Grace a second and third chance. She didn't want to betray his confidence _yet_ again.

T'Kir was her best friend and deserved to know. Unfortunately, T'Kir shared a permanent telepathic rapport with Macen. She could spill the beans without even meaning to.

The door chimed and it broke Grace's reverie. She instructed the computer to open it. T'Kir bounded in and excitedly hugged her.

"Hiya kiddo!" T'Kir enthused.

"Hi!" Grace's reaction was a blend of excitement and surprise.

Grace noticed Rockford standing in the middle of the room, "Hi there."

"`Lo." Rockford waved.

"You done unpacking?" T'Kir asked.

"Not quite." Grace said, "I still have to…"

"You're done." T'Kir sternly informed her, "It's time for a Girl's Night Out."

"The infamous GNO, eh?" Grace mused, "All right. I'm in. Where to?"

"Quark's." T'Kir decided, "We can get a holosuite and then hog the dance floor."

Grace and Rockford smirked. Quark had decided to capitalise on his success at _DS9_. He was franchising his name to establishments across the quadrant. This particular Quark's boasted a dance club as well as a casino, holosuites, a bar, and a restaurant.

"C'mon, let's go." T'Kir made for the door. Rockford and Grace exchanged a glance and then followed T'Kir. They were headed for trouble and knew it. They all found they didn't care.

* * *

Lisea Danan nestled up against Tom Riker. Danan was Macen's Sciences Specialist. Riker was the Captain of the _Emden_-class _SS Indomitable_. He was also leader of his own SID team. Despite Riker's past as XO of the _Obsidian_ under Macen, his launch as a SID commander had already been marred by tragedy. Abby Collins' death had shaken him and shaken him hard.

Danan's TLC had nursed him back to emotional health. Former SID agents Rab Daggit and Parva had also helped immensely. The greatest aid, however, had been the lack of assignments for the last six weeks. Riker and Danan had luxuriated in each other's company and were now enjoying a respite.

"Thanks for helping arrange my things." Riker said.

"Don't think you're getting out of helping me with my quarters." Danan warned, "I have some items requiring your muscle."

"I haven't, I haven't." Riker assured her, "I'm just catching my breath."

"Sucks getting old don't it?" Danan asked.

"Who's old?" Riker gibed, "I'm going to live forever."

"With my symbiot, so will I." Danan remarked.

"I keep forgetting you're a Trill." Riker chuckled.

"What?" Danan said dryly, "The head to toe spots don't give it away?"

"You know what I mean." Riker prodded.

Danan leaned over and kissed him, "Yes I do. I'm always forgetting that you're merely human."

Riker pushed her over on the couch and jumped atop her, "I'll show you 'merely' human."

"Yum!" she replied.

* * *

The final member of the team sat alone in the bowels of the _Obsidian_. Tessa was the ship's EMH and was therefore restricted to the ship. Macen had had holoprojectors installed throughout the ship but it was still a lonely place when empty even if she could explore it all.

She was in the rec room watching old movies when Galen 3 plopped down beside her.

"Hi!" he enthused. Galen 3 was from Eminiar VII and was Danan's research assistant. He also had a crush on Tessa. While she occasionally found this annoying, she was just happy to see another face.

"Hi yourself." She replied, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you." He admitted, "My room's prepared and I couldn't think of anyone else that I wanted to spend time with so here I am."

"I appreciate the thought." Tessa confessed, "I really do but if you think you're gonna put any fast moves on me, think again buster!"

"Fast moves." Galen 3 scoffed, "I am, above all else, a gentleman."

"All right." Tessa accepted him at his word, "Do you want to play springball?"

"What's springball?" Galen 3 asked.

Like an angler hooking a fish, Tessa crooked her finger and said, "Follow me."


	2. Chapter 2

From the entrance to Government House, Vladimir Kirov gazed out across the sprawling courtyard to the buildings beyond. The brick yard and surrounding buildings had become affectionately known as the Red Square. An altogether fitting epitaph for the capitol buildings located in the city of Kremlin on the planet Bolshevik.

Bolshevik was the fulfilment of the communist dream. The planet went further economically than the Federation. Not only were physical needs provided for but the state also distributed belongings. These were doled out on the basis of need. The better the worker, the greater the need. But in the end, even this property belonged to the state and would return to it once the individual it was assigned to no longer needed it whether by death or illness.

While it was publicly heralded as a "worker's paradise", the system suffered from the same lapses than any centrally planned economy did. Inefficiency abounded. Infamously the SOP was the overproduction and underproduction of goods.

The mainstay of the planet's production was industrial output. Civilian starcraft modules and superliners built from the keel up were two prominent specialities. The planet boasted the highest quotient of engineers amongst its population in the Federation.

The state was regulated by a multiparty system. The Duma contained representatives from every walk of life. But it wasn't mere chance that the Communist Party had dominated politics for one hundred and thirty years now. It was a sign of its popularity and success.

Such domination had allowed Kirov to remain as Premier for over fifteen years now. He'd literally grown old in the office. There were a couple of competent rivals vying for the successor's position but neither had completely dominated the other yet. As such, Kirov was still popular enough amongst the MPs to retain his position.

He had decided to step down though. A veritable lifetime of service to the state had grown tiresome. It was time to relax and have some fun. Risa sounded awfully nice. Maybe he'd move there.

Kirov shook his head and chuckled to himself. Bolshevik was his home and his life. He knew he'd stay here so he dismissed all such fanciful notions and concentrated on the task at hand.

Beyond the portico, his limousine had landed. The Kremlin Guard Patrol's special unit surrounded him. They wore the latest generation of ablative armour and carried the most modern weaponry. The KGP prided itself on the fact that they had stymied every attempt on a Premier's life since the creation of the office.

The limo itself resembled a _Galileo_-class shuttle from the mid-23rd century. That was probably because it was. Lacking shields, the limo relied upon its duranium hull to deflect weapon's fire.

Instead of rows of bucket seats, the limo possessed two lushly covered bench seat, both facing each other. There were meal replicators and a comp/comm unit. The limo could still navigate in space but only at impulse power. Kirov loved his limo and he wondered if he could talk the Duma into letting him keep it when he left office.

A KGP sergeant was scanning the area with a tricorder. Satisfied with the results, he nodded towards his superior. The KGP lt. colonel in charge of Kirov's protective detail tapped his comm badge.

"Iron Man is ready to roll." He announced.

Kirov liked his official code name. It reflected the firm hand he displayed in administering Bolshevik's government. He took pride in what the name stood for.

He and his minders began walking forward. They came out from underneath the arbour framing the front of the entrance into Government House. As they did so, they passed out of range for the building's shield emitters.

They only had two more metres to go before they reached the limo. Suddenly and surprisingly, a photon missile erupted out of a window on the building opposite of Government House. It was dedicated to the use of the Ministry of Defence. The missile slammed into the hull of the limo, rupturing it, and killing the pilot.

Kirov's agents began rushing him back to the House's entrance. As they did so, a powerful phaser beam slammed into one agent, piercing his armour, and killing him. Another fell and another. Only two agents made it back inside the protective embrace of the House. Kirov hid behind a column while his agents returned fire and the shields were activated.

"Colonel Villiers to SkyEye," the agent in charge commed, "weapons release. Engage target."

Several more phaser bursts uselessly lashed out at the shielded Premier. The shooting stopped when a hovering runabout descended to the same level as the shooter. Twin phaser blasts ripped into the building. Sensor readings indicated that there no lifesigns in that room anymore. Its first mission done, the SkyEye unit ascended to keep watch for suspicious looking characters in the area.

The wait wasn't a long one. Immediately, sensors showed a young man racing out of the building. Pausing for a moment, the relative youth began to drift towards the crowds gathering out in Red Square. SkyEye quickly stunned the man and signalled KGP officers to come and collect him. Within minutes, the man was in custody.

* * *

Edward Noyce rose from behind his desk and stretched. He'd been reading compiled reports, determining policy, and making recommendations for the Council of Five. Just another day in the life of the Director of Starfleet Security.

Noyce was a spry seventy-two years old. But as people like Elias Vaughn were proving, seventy was the new thirty. Age was hardly a factor in Noyce's performance at the job.

As was his custom, Noyce had one monitor tuned to the Federation News Service and one free for communication and computing. As he rounded back to his desk after getting a beverage from the replicator, he heard a report that interested him. He sat back down and watched for a moment.

The report detailed the assassination attempt on Kirov. Noyce frowned. Kirov was a friend.

Kirov was known for his lavish parties and loose sexual mores but Noyce wasn't one to judge. He'd partied hard in his day as well. Noyce knew that the attempt wasn't the handiwork of a jealous husband or wife. The assassins had been too well equipped for that.

Noyce's comp/comm began to chime. He activated it. His aide's face appeared.

"Admiral," he began, "Deputy Director Rosenbaum is passing off an urgent call to you. She says it's a matter you'll want to deal with personally."

"Transfer it here." Noyce said. He was slightly intrigued. Captain Rosenbaum prided herself on her ability to handle any emergency. For her to pass this one off marked it as a special case.

Kirov's image appeared on the screen. He looked frustrated and a little scared, "Ed, it's good of you to take my call."

"Anything for a friend, Vlad." Noyce assured him, "I heard about the attempt on your life. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Nothing harmed but my pride and my sense of safety." Kirov confided.

"Do you know who's responsible?" Noyce asked.

"Yes." Kirov replied, "We captured one of the two men involved. He was the missileer who fired too early. He'd grown jumpy and launched as soon as he saw me. Fortunate for me. Bad for my pilot."

"At least the casualties were contained." Noyce reminded him, "The body count could have been higher."

"A fact I'm all too aware of." Kirov admitted.

"Who did it? You said you knew." Noyce repeated.

"It was the NKVD." Kirov revealed.

"The who?" Noyce was bewildered.

"The New Kremlin Vigilante Detachment." Kirov explained, "They appeared around six standard months ago. They feel that the KGP is inadequate to the task of apprehending criminals. They've taken to street justice. They seize, try, and condemn certain individuals. Apparently I've become a certain individual."

Noyce smiled at Kirov's dark humour, "Do they have the means to carry out their plans?"

"Yesterday I would have said, 'absolutely not' with unwavering confidence." Kirov shared, "After today, I just don't know."

Noyce sympathised with his friend, "That's understandable. Tell me, has the Starfleet Security detachment on Bolshevik been helping your people out?"

Kirov nodded, "Oh, yes. They have advised, assigned undercover agents, run sensor sweeps, and interrogated suspects. None of it has done any good. Their advice, while good, isn't tailored to our needs. Their undercover agents are obviously Starfleet so they get the run-around. Their sensor sweeps, though a little bit better than ours, reveal nothing. And the interrogations do not get any better results than our own."

Kirov intently stared at Noyce, "We need help. We need specialised help. I was hoping you could provide that."

Noyce frowned, "It sounds as though my people there are doing everything within their purview. I have agents that might fit the demands that you have but they are all assigned to other cases."

Kirov was crestfallen, "I see."

Noyce smiled, "Don't give up, Vlad. I think the Special Investigations Division can provide exactly what you need."

"The what?" Kirov was hopeful but confused.

"You have a high enough clearance to hear this but you can't disclose what I'm about to reveal to anyone." Noyce warned, "The penalties for doing so are rather…_stiff_."

Kirov nodded, "The secret is safe with me."

"Very well then." Noyce consented, "I see that you're on a secure channel, so I can begin. The SID began as…"

* * *

Admiral Amanda Forger sat in her wheelchair situated behind her desk. The term _wheelchair_ was laughably outdated because she sat in a hoverchair. Antigravs suspended it in the air and miniature repulsors propelled it.

The desk itself was set on a hinge so that it could be swivelled away and put up against the wall in order to grant her free access in and out of her office. It was true that her role as the Director of the SID kept her pretty well confined to her office but she didn't want to be trapped there. It was nice to get away and have a life.

It was both strange and sad that she had more of a social life now that she was crippled and divorced than when she was single, dating, or married. She enjoyed many activities not related to her duties now that she'd previously ignored while climbing the ranks in Starfleet Security and then Internal Affairs. Though she couldn't walk, she had discovered that she could have a life on top of Starfleet and that it was okay to have fun.

As far as her condition went, the nerves that enabled her to walk were still severed but ancillary nerve connections were still intact. As a result, with proper medical attention, she had rediscovered sex. She found it both eerie and exhilarating that she could still embrace such a fleeting thing while her legs remained utterly useless.

Her upper body work-outs were more intense than ever. She cringed when she looked down because the carefully developed and sculpted muscle tone was withering away into nothing. It was depressing but there was literally nothing she could do about it. They moved her legs for her and electrically stimulated them but the muscle was still converting itself into fat.

The great tragedy of it all was that her ex-husband, Richard Drake, had been the one to damage her back while he was trying to kill her. He'd been programmed to do so by Bertram Sindis. Drake could no longer look at her without succumbing to the mental conditioning that forced him to attack her. Appropriately, Forger had divorced him and taken her maiden name back.

One good thing about it had been the fact that her younger sister Shannon had been battling withdrawals and drug addiction at the time. Focusing on her older sibling had given her a new purpose and direction for her life. It had also brought them closer together.

Amanda and Shannon were separated by a ten year gulf in age. For a time, Shannon had been occluded by her older sister's accomplishments. Both of them had joined Starfleet Security. Whereas Amanda moved on to Internal Affairs, Shannon became a Tactical specialist.

Shannon was leery when Amanda, the newly promoted Director of the nascent SID, invited her to sign up. Amanda convinced her to forsake Starfleet and hire on with Outbound Ventures, Inc. There she could work for Brin Macen, privateer and SID agent. If Macen selected her to serve with him, she would be amongst the greatest, and most troublesome, SID team contracted by Starfleet. Shannon had done so and was now the XO of Macen's ship.

Forger's musings were interrupted by the chime of her comp/comm. Ambril Delori's sunny features appeared on her screen. Although…the Bajoran seemed concerned.

"What is it Delori?" Forger called her by her given name.

"Admiral Noyce is on the line." Ambril explained, "It seems he has a case for you to consider."

Forger smiled. It was her aide's job to screen her calls. Apparently this one passed the litmus test for importance.

"Pipe it in here." Forger instructed, "Let's see what Ed wants."

"Yes, ma'am." Ambril signed off.

Noyce appeared and his greeting had its usual friendliness but there was a hint of stress in his voice. Forger enquired as to why and Noyce explained the situation to her. After finishing, he transferred Kirov's call to her.


	3. Chapter 3

"Mr. Premier," Forger said to Kirov's shaken image, "Admiral Noyce has explained the situation to me. I believe I can help. Or more accurately, agents in my employ can help."

"I still find it hard to believe that Starfleet employs privateers." Kirov admitted.

"Starfleet licenses and monitors the law enforcement activities of privateers, private investigators, and private security. Why shouldn't we also employ them? They often have access to areas that Starfleet can't get into." Forger explained, "And as civilians, they're ideal for undercover work."

"That would be useful in this case." Kirov said.

"So I've gathered." Forger replied, "You stated that you didn't believe the NKVD was capable of an attack on this scale until now. Why is that?"

"We don't have any portable photon missile launchers on Bolshevik. Even the Red Army lacks them." Kirov answered, "As far as high powered phaser rifles go, there are only five on the planet and they were all secured and accounted for during the incident."

"So you suspect offworld assistance?" Forger sought clarification.

"Of course." Kirov vigorously nodded, "Exports make up ninety percent of our trade. We have offworlders on our planet by the thousands because of freight pick-ups."

"You said the NKVD targets criminals. Why are they suddenly after you?" Forger enquired.

"They now view me as the pinnacle of the 'corruption pervading Bolshevik.' The captured suspect recounted several of my more sordid affairs to demonstrate my moral turpitude." Kirov explained.

"I'll relay that information to my team." Forger promised, "Don't worry. I'm contracting my best team. They've successfully completed over a hundred cases so far."

"I trust your judgement and your choice." Kirov said, "Now if you excuse me, I have panicking security officers to deal with."

"Of course." Forger conceded, "My agents should be with you in a matter of days."

"Tell them to hurry." Kirov urged.

"I will. Bye now." Forger cut the connection. Forger pondered the situation for a moment and then contacted Christine Pike at Outbound Ventures HQ. Pike served as the company's liaison with Starfleet. She would find Macen and have him contact Forger's office.

Afterwards, she contacted the Director of Starfleet Intelligence, Alynna Nechayev. They then participated in a conference call with Edward Jellico. When all was said and done, Macen's orders were cut.

* * *

Macen and T'Kir were walking across the corridor to their office. Each ship's captain and executive officer had an office within the station. Unlike most of the other captains Macen shared his office with his wife. It had worked for them on Barrinor and it was logical that it would work here.

"Shared" wasn't quite the term that it had been on Barrinor. Here, they each occupied an office area. There just wasn't a divider between them beyond the usual structural supports. They could pursue individual goals or unite for a common front.

Their assistant, named Bryce Fanning, had an adjoining office. Shannon Forger's office was next door. It was exceptionally easy to assemble the command team on short notice. Beyond Forger's office lay a briefing room dedicated to the _Obsidian _crew.

Macen ducked into Fanning's office as he entered his own space, "Hi Bryce, anything new?"

Fanning smiled, "We have the usual plethora of offers. More importantly, Chris commed. You're supposed to contact Admiral Forger."

"Oh, really?" Macen mused. He'd told Forger that he'd be unavailable this week. She wouldn't call unless there was some dire mischief afoot.

"D'we got a mission?" T'Kir bounced on over to his side, "Hiya Bryce!"

Fanning smiled and laughed, "Hello T'Kir. Are you always going to enthusiastically greet me as though you haven't seen me for years instead of just a few hours?"

"Yup." T'Kir enthused.

"Good." Fanning decided, "Cus I like it."

"Me too." T'Kir confided.

T'Kir looked around only to find Macen was already at his comp/comm. She flashed a bright smile Fanning's way, "Gotta scoot!"

"Go away, you loon." Fanning giggled.

T'Kir literally leapt away in a faux ballet move. She continued with her mad dance until she reached Macen's desk. Although disjointed it was still a valiant effort by someone in combat boots.

The boots were Angosian. Celeste Rockford had supplied them. They were still manufactured on her home planet and were quite popular. She'd wryly commented that the Augments, the Angosian super soldiers, should have been so lucky. Then she could have stayed home.

Macen was in a discussion with Ambril. She quickly transferred him to Forger's desk. At that point the admiral explained the situation. After she was done, she paused for a moment to allow the information to be digested.

Forger waited. Macen had been one of Starfleet Intelligence's premier analysts before he transferred to field work. He was weighing the evidence carefully. After a moment, he spoke.

"What aren't you telling me?" Macen asked.

"I conferred with Alynna, as is typical since she's my direct superior, and received some foreboding news. The NKVD has pushed Bolshevik to the edge of revolutionary action. The vigilantes are beginning to sway ordinary citizens. While most of the persuaded citizenry won't take up arms, they won't defend the current government either." Forger explained, "In turn, the sitting government leaders are in complete denial concerning the threat. Something has to be done."

"What's stipulated in my contract?" Macen enquired, "What am I authorised to do?"

"Alynna and I spoke with Jellico." Forger revealed and Macen winced, "Brin, it's not bad news. Jellico approves of our sending you. In fact, he recommended it."

"It's a trick." Macen warned, "Don't trust him."

"Brin!" Forger scolded him, "He's the Alpha Quadrant Theatre Commander. That makes him my boss. I have to take him at his word."

"I don't." Macen replied.

Forger shook her head and then continued, "Getting off of this particular rabbit trail, your assignment is two-fold. You're to track down and disable whatever foreign adventurers are supplying the NKVD. You're also to lead Starfleet Security and the KGP to the NKVD itself."

Macen's eyebrow quirked, "Nothing like the impossible, eh?"

"I thought the impossible was your stock in trade." Forger quipped.

"Not lately." Macen grumped.

"Brin," Forger countered, "You drove the raiders out of Ekos and Zeon. Your report on their having achieved warp flight freed us to drop the quarantine and to open relations with them. You didn't capture Sindis but that was never part of your contract."

Forger was unrelenting, "You were hired to _find_ Katreen Dervin and bring her safely home. You couldn't know that a coup was about to take place and it wasn't your responsibility to prevent one. Katreen Dervin is alive and well in her old home in the Federation."

Forger didn't let up, "You were hired to prevent the Magna Roman emperor from losing power and assist him in quelling the uprising that threatened him. Vaughn's told me you had other intentions in addition to those orders. They were noble, misguided, but noble. Alaric stayed in power and the crisis was brought to a halt. You may not have wanted the clones to die but that was an internal decision on the Nova Romans' part. Your mission was accomplished to a tee."

"On top of it all," Forger had one final point to make, "you helped prevent a Cardassian invasion of the planet. No one wanted to see the Magna Romans as a subject nation to the Cardassian Union, least of all the Romans. In each and every case you faced incredible odds and snatched victory out of them. Don't belittle that and don't second guess yourself now. I need you focused on the mission."

Macen pondered her words for several minutes. Wrestling with his sense of guilt, he saw that she had made some very valid points. He would never totally expunge his sense of responsibility over events gone sour but he wasn't solely to blame either.

"All right, I'm focused." He said at last with conviction in his voice.

"When can you depart?" Forger asked.

"In just under two hours." Macen replied, "It'll take that long to clear everyone through the checkpoints."

"Checkpoints?" Forger repeated.

"Identity verification stations." Macen explained, "I don't want any uninvited guest aboard. Station Security and the ship's security team run the checkpoints together. Even I can't board without them crosschecking my biometric data."

"And you can do this in just a few hours?" Forger wondered.

"Amanda," Macen smiled, "I only have a crew of eighty people. They're all contained on one space station instead of an entire planet and a space station. We've already run a couple of drills. This works."

"Well, I'm glad." Forger affirmed, "You don't need any more headaches."

"I agree." Macen said, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a general recall to begin."

Forger smirked, "All right, you're dismissed."

"Good. Macen out." Macen cut the connection and went to ruin Fanning's day.

* * *

Grace carried an overnight bag as she strolled through the Habitat Ring and headed for the crossover to the Docking Ring. Like most of the _Obsidian_ crew, she had a complete wardrobe and toiletries selection aboard ship. What she carried back and forth were her own personal treasures. They mostly consisted of holopics of her with Delaney, T'Kir, and the rest of the two incarnations of Macen's SID team.

She'd just spent two weeks on Barrinor with Delaney. The repairs of the _Intrepid _were almost completed and, seeing how his part was wrapped up, he was granted three weeks leave. He'd spent six days travelling and the rest was spent with Grace. They'd gone sailing across the Opal Sea situated near one of Barrinor's southern continents. It was twice as large as Hudson Bay and neared the size of Earth's Mediterranean. The sea was replete with island chains and they'd explored most of them.

The last two nights had been spent in the guest bedroom of Macen and T'Kir's house. They shared, they laughed, and they'd cried together reminiscing over recent events. It was a great time of developing their relationship and learning to share intimacies. In short, it ranked as the best holiday they'd taken with each other…so far.

T'Kir caught up with Grace, "Hiya Ace."

Grace smirked. T'Kir had taken to calling her "Ace" in light of her feats of piloting wizardry during the Magna Roman Civil War. Technically, it wasn't an accurate label. She hadn't shot any fighters down but she had blown the hell out of a row of Cardassian hovertanks. Although…she'd heard through Liz Liefers, the Flight Operations Officer aboard the _Intrepid_, that Starfleet had recently redefined the term. Maybe it was accurate after all.

"I got one question for ya." T'Kir grinned, "Did'ya change the sheets?"

At one time in recent history, such a question would have embarrassed Grace to death. As things stood now, it just made her righteously indignant, "Who do you think I am? Of course I changed the sheets."

T'Kir laughed, "Calm down Hannah. I'm just _frinxin_' with ya. D'you honestly think I would think badly of you?"

_Now_ Grace was embarrassed, "No. I honestly don't think that. I'm just sorry Ian's gone. I keep remembering all the good times we had and I miss him."

"I take it there were a coupla bad times as well." T'Kir remarked. Grace possessed one of those few minds T'Kir's telepathy couldn't read. Despite this, she knew her friend well enough to read between the lines.

Grace sighed, "Of course we butted heads. We each have our own ways of dealing with things. Fortunately, with time and patience, we worked things out and the good times could begin again."

"Good fer you." T'Kir smiled brightly, "I have trained you well."

"_You_ trained me?" Grace scoffed, "I don't think so. You taught me how to get laid not how to manage a blossoming relationship."

"Hey!" T'Kir protested, "What about Cecil DeWitt?"

"Laid." Grace flatly replied.

"Onyx Caleb?" T'Kir tried again.

"Laid." Came Grace's droll reply.

"What about…"

* * *

Radil popped into the Infirmary and proceeded to Kort's office. Kort was surprised, "I thought you were shipping out?"

"We are." Radil replied, "I just wanted to say, 'See you later!'"

"I appreciate the thought and the sentiment." Kort admitted, "But you'd better hurry along."

"Yeah," Radil sighed, "once more unto the breach and all that rot."

"Jenrya," Kort said softly, "are you up for this?"

Radil gave him a sad smile, "I'm still grieving but I'm also moving on. This'll be good for me."

"As long as you're certain." Kort replied.

Radil laughed, "Who's certain? I'm just making this up as I go. Anyway, later!"

Radil waved goodbye as she exited. Kort watched her go and wished her every success and plenty of good luck. With the missions Macen frequently got, she'd need all the luck she could get.

* * *

As she waited in the ID queue, Danan wished that Riker were here to say goodbye to. She'd known that these situations would arise when she opted to serve on another ship other than his. Still, theory and reality were often two different animals. She had to admit to herself that although she missed him already, setting out on would likely prove to be a life threatening mission just made her pangs worse.

What this situation made clear to her is that she was not only in love with Tom Riker; she was falling _deeply _in love with him. It was a case that warranted permanent commitment. Although Riker would jump at such a chance, Danan was still leery. Her time with Macen had left her gun shy when it came to deep, personal commitment.

Danan loosed a deep, forlorn sigh. She was in the midst of a quandary and she didn't know who to turn to for advice. She was used to issuing counsel, not receiving it. She shrugged her shoulders, straightened them, and moved forward in line. Her personal problems would have to wait until another day.

* * *

Gantz sat and pondered the news he'd just received. His younger brother had called and informed him that their father was dead. Gantz was the inheritor of the clan's mantle of leadership. He'd stunned his brother when he refused to return to Acamar and claim it.

Gantz had put the clan behind him when they, and the rest of the Gatherers, had abandoned piracy for transport hauling. Gantz's decision to become a bounty hunter was born of his knowledge of the criminal world and his familiarity with a few dozen worlds. He had excelled at skip tracing and bounty hunting.

Gantz's reputation amongst law enforcement agencies spanned the quadrant. He'd been on the verge of retirement when Macen had approached him. His appeal swayed Gantz and he'd held off retirement for at least a few years more.

The door chimed and Gantz reluctantly ordered the computer to open it. A concerned Dracas walked in, "Haven't you heard? We're deploying."

Gantz went into his bedroom and retrieved the comm badge that was stuffed underneath the pillows. He tapped it, "I already know. Gantz out."

Gantz returned to the main room and found Dracas expectantly waiting there. Gantz noted the Troglyte's attire. Born on Magna Roma, the genetically Ardannian Dracas wore leather Roman armour and carried a Roman short sword along with his phaser pistol.

"Well?" Dracas impatiently asked.

"Keep your armour on, Joachim. I'll join the queue in ten minutes." Gantz assured him.

"Then I will see you there." Dracas turned on his heel and departed.

Gantz chuckled to himself. It was a good thing that Dracas had a boyfriend now. He seriously needed to unwind.

Gantz threw a few personal items in a duffel and exited his quarters. Not surprisingly, Dracas was in the corridor waiting for him. Gantz shook his head and escorted his friend to the ship.


	4. Chapter 4

As the SID team members began to gather, Macen had Gantz meet him in his Ready Room. Gantz was mildly curious as to why he had been summoned but he took his seat and laconically gazed at Macen. Macen, in turn, grinned.

"Congratulations." Macen began, "You're the newly promoted squad leader for the team."

Gantz stifled a groan, "I thought we'd covered this. You offered, I refused. We agreed that Radil was a better candidate."

"The old Radil was a better candidate." Macen corrected him, "The new Radil isn't."

"She's still grieving." Gantz reminded Macen, "She'll recover."

"Speaking as an empath, I'm not sure." Macen revealed, "Jenrya has lost her fire. There's no joy left in her. She performs her duty out of a sense of obligation but she does so just to get by. The depth of her sorrow is such that she may never recover. Her single source of joy is…"

"The Klingon doctor." Gantz finished for him, "Yeah, I've noticed. We all have."

"The problem is: Kort and Radil have a complicated history together." Macen explained, "Kort still carries a torch for her and that might make things messy down the road."

Gantz ruefully rubbed his chin, "Yeah, I can see that. If she doesn't get over Abby's death and Kort makes a play…"

Macen nodded, "You have a keen grasp of the situation."

"So that leaves me as your new squad leader." Gantz wryly remarked.

"The team has a need and you're the most qualified candidate to fill the gap." Macen said, "T'Kir picked up your turmoil over your family affairs. I'm sorry that this places you in a similar situation."

Gantz waved the thought away, "The two are nuthin' alike." He took a deep breath and then spoke, "Okay, I'm your man. What happens next?"

Macen smiled, "Next we tell the team."

"Great." Gantz grumped.

* * *

Macen convened the meeting in the team briefing room. The _Obsidian _possessed two briefing rooms. One was a standard, Starfleet issue, briefing room. It was used by department heads to gather their staff and convey vital messages.

The other was the sole property of the SID team. It was slightly larger and contained more exotic equipment. It utilised a holoprojector rather than a viewer. The imagery appeared in 3D atop the conference table. Replicators were also on hand in order to provide refreshments.

Tessa was thrilled to see everyone. She relished the thought of another mission because it afforded her the chance to share the ship with someone.

Macen began with the announcement of Gantz's new position in the ranks. He received wide plaudits to which he modestly deferred the attention back to Macen.

Macen began by describing the particulars of the mission. They each received a padd containing all of Starfleet Intelligence's reports and those of the KGP. Macen encouraged them to go over them and come back the following day with recommendations and action plans. At that point, he dismissed them all.

* * *

Later that day, Gantz strolled into the Rec Room. He found Rockford cosied up on a couch alone, sipping at some coffee, intently reading a padd. She seemed quite peaceful. Gantz hated to interrupt but he needed to discuss matters with her.

"Yo, Celeste. Got a moment?" he asked as he sat down in a nearby stuffed chair.

"I guess I do now." Rockford dryly commented.

"Look, I just wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings between us." Gantz said.

Rockford looked puzzled, "Why would there be?"

"Well," Gantz began, "as Annika Ryst, you've led troops into battle for years. I've led pirates on raids and teams of bounty hunters but it's not the same."

"Gantz," Rockford smiled, "you're leading investigators, not troops. It'll be similar to those bounty hunters you mentioned."

Her smile grew, "As far as hard feelings go, I don't feel slighted in the least. I have no desire to lead this group. I'm a P.I. who's working within the framework of a team. I'm quite content being a grunt for a change."

Gantz was visibly relieved, "Now that that's settled…are you looking at the Captain's data?"

"Yup." Rockford confirmed it, "I've already have a few ideas."

Gantz grinned, "So do I. Want to swap stories?"

"Sounds good." Rockford agreed, "First of all, let's…"

* * *

After they'd shared, the conversation returned to Gantz's promotion.

"I still don't know why Macen didn't go with Radil." Gantz admitted.

Rockford adamantly shook her head, "Nope. No way. Bad choice."

"That's what Macen thought. He says her spirit's been quenched. I'm not convinced. She's a fighter." Gantz insisted.

"It's true that Radil has been broken before and come back, at least partially." Rockford countered, "But this is different. Radil spent her life losing people so she never took the chance of revealing her vulnerabilities to anyone and truly sharing her heart before. She did that with Abby Collins. She's making a stab at reclaiming her life but it may turn out that she truly is one of those people that can't live without their partner."

"How do you know this?" Gantz wondered.

"Radil and I have a similar background." Rockford confessed, "The major difference is that she can go home to Bajor and I can't return to Angosia. I'd give anything for that chance. Literally. I gave up everything I was and had to defend my world and now I can't even set foot on it. Life just ain't fair sometimes."

"I had no idea." Gantz admitted.

Rockford shrugged, "I don't advertise the fact but it's true. But hey, I'm a survivor. I'll cope."

Gantz smirked, "Not to change the subject, but have you noticed that we're all starting to talk like T'Kir?"

Rockford grinned, "She has a very infectious personality. As relaxed as this team is, it's only natural that we'd adopt a more relaxed mode of speech. I was already half way there due to my Rockford persona's supposed human origins."

"My Federation Standard training was pretty formal but our Gatherers' tongues were pretty loose." Gantz revealed.

"Your Federation teachers would've cringed at that statement." Rockford teased.

Gantz beamed, "Ain't it great?"

"I'll reserve judgement on that." Rockford noted the latest arrivals, "Heads up. They've changed the guard and Hannah and T'Kir are headed our way."

"This should get interesting." Gantz commented.

* * *

Macen had received a transmission from Kirov. In it, Kirov was describing the latest NKVD related events on Bolshevik. Needless to say, the man was unhappy.

"They have killed nine MPs so far. It's true they had left Kremlin to return to their districts but they still retained bodyguards. Our local forces are impotent against them." Kirov lashed out.

"Take it easy." Macen advised, "I'm on your side."

"Of course, Captain." Kirov sighed, "I'm all too grateful for that. I still remember your assistance during the New Order affair. You and your team performed admirably under intense scrutiny and pressure. I'm certain you will repeat such miracles here."

"I know Admiral Forger has undoubtedly sung my praises but it's only fair to say that we may not be able to accomplish all that you desire." Macen warned.

Kirov sagely nodded, "A fact I'm all too aware of, Captain. Nevertheless, Admiral Forger's assurances and my own experience lend credence to the idea that our fate is well entrusted in your hands."

"I appreciate your faith." Macen assured him, "We'll try to live up to expectations." Macen shifted gears, "Now, there should be no physical contact between us. We won't visit you or the KGP when we get on the ground. How many of your staffers or advisors know we're coming?"

Kirov was surprised, "None."

Macen was pleased, "Keep it that way. When you try to contact us, call the ship, they'll relay that you want to communicate to me and I'll decide if the situation allows for a conversation."

Kirov nodded, "I understand."

"Good. Have the KGP gather all of the reports and evidence and turn them over to Starfleet Security. I'll get them from Starfleet." Macen instructed.

"If that's the way you want it done…" Kirov began.

"It is." Macen insisted.

"Then it shall be done." Kirov promised.

"Another thing," Macen reminded himself, "I need your private comm address. I need your direct line, answered only by you, and not by one of your flunkies."

"I'll piggyback it onto my transmission…now." Kirov immediately acted upon the request.

"Yes, I have it." Macen confirmed, "If that is all, I'll get back to strategising our approach to the problem."

"By all means!" Kirov urged, "Don't let me interfere."

"Thank you Mr. Premier. We'll get the job done." Macen assured him and signed off.

Macen had a general outline of a plan but he wanted the others' input. He strongly suspected they'd have many of the same ideas and he wanted them to participate in finalising their action plan. He usually stayed away from the democratic approach but it was a new team. Maybe it was time for a few new methods as well. The worst that could happen is that he'd have to create a plan on his own on short notice. That was the usual M.O. so where was the harm?

Macen shrugged and went back to work.

* * *

Radil finished showering and got dressed. Her attire was entirely Bajoran. Loose trousers, oversized blouse, open knit sweater, and mid-calf high boots made up her ensemble. She hated to wrap it up with her utility belt but she was the Security Chief. She had an example to set.

Not that she cared all that much about setting an example. The thrill and determination behind her work was gone. Macen had given her a new life, one with a purpose, and that had been lacking during her days as a mercenary. The Resistance had consumed her as a youth and she had reawakened that passion with the SID. Only, even that was stifled by her pain. Kort assured her that it would pass.

In an odd twist, Kort had proven himself to be an immeasurable source of comfort. They're romantic union had been turbulent beyond words. It had been fun at times but they had also faced some terrible rows. In the end, their differences had driven them apart. Or, more precisely, Radil's differences with Kort had driven her away.

Kort was a changed man, a hard enough transformation, even when the said male wasn't a Klingon. Kort was now a beloved and trusted friend. They had previously been lovers but not friends. She embraced her new reality. It helped keep her sane.

Macen and T'Kir were a help. Each had faced tremendous losses in the distant, not so distant, and recent past. But they had one another and that set them apart from her situation. She couldn't quite see the universe through their eyes.

Grace had faced the loss of contact with her people. Dracas was permanently exiled from his birthworld and was unwelcome on the planet of his genetic origins. It was also true that he'd been hit hard by the executions of his fellow clones. That allowed them to empathise but not completely understand.

Tessa had no scope. Danan couldn't relate. Gantz had forsaken his people but he'd never faced a personal loss.

Celeste Rockford was the only one she could truly turn to on the team. Rockford, as Annika Ryst, had lost her world, her people, her lover, her freedom, and a touch of her sanity over the years. She understood loss and she was coping alone. It was true she engaged in friendly sexual liaisons with the XO of _DS9_, but at this time it served to fulfil a physical desire not an emotional need.

Radil never thought that she would confide in Rockford. Originally, she barely tolerated the Angosian's presence. Despite that, Rockford had lent her emotional support and become a trusted confidant. It was funny how tragedy changed one's views.

Radil considered finding a teammate to confer with but thought better of it. She'd review Macen's information alone. Maybe she should contact Dracas, Grace and T'Kir had last been seen ensconced in the information together, and get his perspective. Thinking better of it, she replicated her beverage of choice and sat down in her easy chair and began to read. It was going to be a long evening.


	5. Chapter 5

The following day, Macen convened his meeting in the team briefing room. He updated all of them as to the additional assassinations on Bolshevik. He gave them half and hour to digest the data and make any adjustments to their recommendations. While the others poured over the new details, Macen and Tessa conferred outside.

They stood out in the corridor outside of the briefing room. Macen cradled a mug of coffee while Tessa, not requiring subsidence, leaned up against the bulkhead. She was bright and cheerful while he was more restrained.

"Tessa," Macen slowly began, "I've been meaning to talk to you for a while now."

"What about?" she was all full of curiosity.

"T'Kir has run some checks on your program…" Macen started to say.

Tessa interrupted, "I'll say! She's reviewed the line code twice, run dozens of diagnostics, and let me tell you, those diagnostics drive me batty. They induce a tingling sensation and it'll make me mental if she does it again."

"There's a reason she's been doing that." Macen assured her, "Do you remember when she started?"

"Right after our mission to Magna Roma." Tessa supplied the answer.

"And what happened there?" Macen asked, guiding her towards the answer.

Tessa was immediately sullen, "I dunno."

"Vaughn reported that you killed four Cardassians." Macen informed her.

Tessa motioned towards herself and adopted her best "Who me?" look.

"You can quit it." Macen advised, "I'm not buying it. The internal sensors have you alone with them when they died."

Tessa scrunched up her face and muttered, "There's always something."

"First you cave in a man's skull with your bare hands and now you try to lie and sham out of it." Macen pointed out, "What's strange is that there's no conflict with your ethical subroutines. Felix says your program is an adaptive, self writing template. Your experiences and added modules let your program modify itself for new situations."

He continued, "Your holomatrix is stored in a positronic CPU. It's already been proven that positronic devices can allow program algorithms become self aware and that they can evolve. Thus making them sentient life. Artificial life but undeniably sentient."

"I want to encourage your personal growth but I have to say that I'm alarmed about where certain aspects have gone. You need to reflect long and hard over the potential consequences of your recent actions." Macen concluded with, "We're here to help, not to condemn you. Reach out and we'll be there."

Tessa slowly nodded, "Thanks."

"'Thanks, but I'm not ready to talk.'" Macen said, "That is what you mean isn't it."

Tessa broke out into a sheepish grin, "Yeah, that's about it. But I promise to talk about it when I'm ready to."

"I can't ask for more than that." Macen smiled and checked his wrist chrono, "It's about time to shake up our little lambs. Coming?"

"Right behind you." Tessa replied.

* * *

The group quieted down as Macen and Tessa retook their seats. Danan volunteered to speak first, "I was thinking we could use nanites, planted on our suspects, to track them and use high resolutions scans to determine who they are and what they're doing. Heavens know this ship has the sensor capability. Let's put that to use."

"And what if we can't find the NKVD?" Macen mused.

"Brin," Danan scolded, "you'll run into them. You always find trouble or it finds you."

"I like it." Macen smiled, "We can utilise that. Next?"

T'Kir, speaking for her and Grace, spoke next, "Like Lees said, we're gonna find `em, so why not use it to our advantage? We can make `em interested in us, enough that they come find us, and have them try to recruit us."

"How do you propose we do that?" Macen enquired.

"It's illegal to own or carry weapons on Bolshevik, right?" T'Kir began, "We can flash the fact that we're armed and licensed t'carry anywhere we damn well please. Add that t'the fact that we can transport weaponry _and_ we're for hire and I think we'll hook `em."

"_We_ think we'll hook them." Grace reminded her friend.

"Right." T'Kir sheepishly relented, "That last bit was Hannah's."

"Good thinking." Macen said, "It appeals to their mentality and their weaknesses both. We'll use it."

Macen looked around. Dracas stirred so Macen spoke, "Joachim? Any ideas?"

"We find them and kill them." Dracas replied.

"That's it?" Macen sought clarification.

"That's it." Dracas confirmed for him, "We find them and kill them all."

"I'll keep that in mind." Macen promised, "Gantz?"

"Actually, Celeste is doing my talking. We sorta collaborated like Hannah and T'Kir." Gantz answered.

"The plan is a two-fold approach." Rockford explained, "One is to question the dockside workers and see if any mysterious or suspicious cargos have been regularly loaded or off-loaded. The second part is questioning local manufacturers regarding losses or missing product. Between the two, we should get a more accurate picture of what's going on. We'll also draw the sort of attention that you want."

Macen grinned, "I like the way you two think. Excellent plan."

Macen turned to Radil, "Anything?"

Radil shook her head, "They used all the good stuff."

"I know what you mean." Macen grinned, "Now, our cover story is taken care of. A local shipper headquartered on Bolshevik wants to renegotiate her contract with Outbound Ventures. She worked with Captain Aenic several times and she's impressed with his work. She wants to put him on retainer."

"I've volunteered to go over her proposal and to discuss it with Aenic." Macen revealed, "It impresses her, gives kudos to the company, and legitimises our being here. It's a win-win-win scenario."

"T'Kir and I will meet with her." Macen announced, "Celeste, you're coming along as well."

"Oh really?" she dryly quipped.

"Gantz, Jenrya, and Joachim, you'll handle the dock side inquiries. While you're at it, inquire about a decent local eatery. One favoured by dock rats."

"Gotcha." Gantz nodded.

"T'Kir, Celeste, and I will handle the manufacturing end after we clear up the contract negations." Macen disclosed, "Lees, you'll be on stand-by with the sensors. Hannah, you'll be aboard in case the ship needs to manoeuvre. Tessa, you can't come for obvious reasons."

Tessa sullenly stuck out her tongue. Macen shook his head. T'Kir's influence was everywhere.

"That concludes our meeting." Macen announced, "Everyone's dismissed."

* * *

Colonel Harb Villiers of the KGP was furious. He commanded the Special Unit in charge of the Premier's safety and his investigation into the recent attempt on Kirov's life was going nowhere. He and his unit had eliminated all the suspects except for one and that one was known only to Villiers himself. It was his brother Rafe.

Rafe Villiers was the leader of the opposition Truth & Liberty Party. Truth & Liberty had nearly toppled the Communists' monolithic hegemony in the last election and seemed poised to give them a run for it once again. The party was calling for new general elections, citing corruption and incompetence as the key reasons to vote again. It just so happened that was the same rallying cry as the NKVD's.

The NKVD strove to force a vote and topple the existing government. The Truth & Liberty Party hadn't endorsed the NKVD's actions but they hadn't condemned them either. Everyone _knew_ there was a connection but no one could _prove_ a thing. This ambiguity allowed Rafe Villiers to ably skirt the issue, playing off both sides of the public's sentiment concerning the NKVD.

The public in Kremlin, and beyond that across Bolshevik, was torn between those that condemned the NKVD and those that lionised their actions. At first, the NKVD had been universally condemned. As their message spread, and proof of their accusations increasingly came to light, they garnered support. Now they were certified heroes to half of the planetary population. Frankly, the KGP was at a loss of how to combat the grassroots propaganda campaign.

Setting such considerations aside, Harb Villiers commed his brother. Rafe's distinctive features filled his screen after being passed about by some staffers at campaign headquarters. Rafe smiled upon seeing sibling.

"Harb!" he enthused, "It's great to hear from you. I didn't expect you to call. I assumed you'd be out chasing the NKVD."

"That's what I may be doing." Colonel Villiers replied.

Villiers sighed, "Now Harb, we've been over this. I am not, in any shape or form, affiliated with the NKVD. They're considered to be criminals…no matter how unjustly that label may be applied."

"It's your ambiguity that makes you a potential suspect." Col. Villiers informed his brother, "The only person outside of my officers and agents that knew of Kirov's plans that day was you. How can you explain that?"

"I can't. Harb, I hold what you say to me in strictest confidence." Villiers lied. Technically, he had no overt contact with the NKVD. However, one of his aides _was _in contact with the vigilantes. She wasn't one of them but she knew how to contact them. Villiers knew of this and had positioned her as one of his confidants. She thought she was using him but in truth they were using one another…especially after hours.

Harb looked doubtful so Rafe added, "Feel free to investigate me. I've nothing to hide."

The Colonel relented, "All right, Rafe. You win. Just don't be surprised if I don't share much of anything from now on."

Although he was bitterly disappointed, Rafe shrugged; "You have to do what you feel is best for the Premier. I completely understand."

"I will tell you this," Col. Villiers said, "You're being observed by Starfleet Security. So make certain your nose stays clean."

"Starfleet?" Rafe yelped, "I thought this was a local matter."

"It was." Harb replied, "Kirov handed it off to Starfleet so you'd better watch your back…just in case your hands are a little dirty."

"Thanks." Rafe tersely replied, "You've made my day."

"I thought it was time to make someone's." Col. Villiers said and signed off.

Rafe Villiers sat back and then called his favourite staffer. He had news for her and her erstwhile compatriots.


	6. Chapter 6

Nicole Harrington finished reporting to the local NKVD cell leader. She took off her dedicated comm badge and returned it to her pocket. Wrapping up her coffee break, she returned to Truth & Liberty's campaign HQ.

* * *

Dustan Ripoll zipped up his coveralls. They hid his NKVD issued comm badge and wore his official Dock Yard comm badge. As a foreman, he was expected to be constantly on-call while at work. Fortunately, there had been no crises today so he'd been able to slip away to take Harrington's call.

_Starfleet Security, eh?_ He thought to himself, _How interesting._

Harrington was Ripoll's most reliable and productive asset. She wasn't a member of his cell but her brother was and she sympathised with the cause. She just refused to personally dirty her hands.

He needed to comm Vasily Gregor, the leader of the NKVD, but his job wouldn't allow it. There were too many prying eyes and ears about. He'd just have to wait out the rest of his six-hour shift and call Gregor when he had a chance.

Ripoll pondered Gregor's improbable name for a moment. Gregor had dropped his surname so that none of his cell leaders could betray his true identity. It was rumoured that "Vasily Gregor" was a pseudonym hiding another self altogether. It didn't matter to Ripoll. He just wished he'd thought of it first.

* * *

Gantz sat in Macen's Ready Room awaiting the Captain's pleasure. Macen was conferring with Forger, setting up the final details for their approach to Bolshevik. As the _Obsidian_ dropped out of warp, Forger excused herself. It was Gantz's turn.

Gantz remained on the couch. He was ruminating over the fact that he'd become the third in command of the SID team. It struck him as being odd since he'd nearly forsaken the opportunity to join the team in the first place.

He'd just finished collaring a gang of smugglers. He'd blown down the door of their hideout and leapt in to surprise them. They'd gone for their scattered weapons. Gantz opened fire with his flechette rifle and ended up killing them all.

Afterwards, he'd considered using the rifle on himself. The blood and endless carnage in his past had finally gotten to him. He was at the lowest ebb of his life.

Sitting in his hotel room and despairing, he was surprised and irritated at the door chime sounding. Reluctantly, he opened the door only to find Macen standing on the other side. Despite his pain, Gantz invited him in. He just had an odd sense of destiny playing about his mind.

Macen began by admitting that he knew of Gantz's current struggle. He offered an alternative.

Gantz scoffed. Macen began explaining to him about his own life. A lifetime of horrors and unconquerable setbacks unfolded. It was a tale Gantz knew well.

Gantz's own life had been steeped in violence since childhood. When the Gatherers reunited with the rest of the Acamarian clans, Gantz was just supposed to abandon the life he knew. Rebelling, he left Acamar and toured the wider galaxy. Needing employment, he was referred to a skip tracer by the local police on Aquinar VII. The grizzled old bounty hunter tutored Gantz in the ways of skip tracing and bounty hunting. Soon the old man retired and Gantz inherited the office.

Licensed to operate within the Federation and beyond, Gantz steadily built up a respectable clientele list and a fearsome reputation. But decades of struggle had worn at his soul. Although the police inspectors had cleared him of any wrong doing, the last bit of killing had pushed him over the edge. Now he wondered if it wasn't his time to quit as well.

Acamarians didn't have much a faith in the great beyond. He was apprehensive over a potential afterlife but he supposed anything was better than the universe he currently inhabited. Only, he instinctively knew Macen's story led to something that might change his mind.

Gantz asked him what the point of the story was. Macen began describing a quest. A quest to build a better tomorrow. A quest that yielded a future where sentient life was united in a common goal and lived under a common banner.

Macen described the Federation as the tip of a broad sword. The respect for life and individual rights would permeate the cosmos and bring the inhabitants of the galaxies themselves together. All it took was an individual choice by each and every sentient lifeform.

Gantz was unsettled by the enormity of Macen's dream. Macen sensed this and told him that it would take lifetimes to accomplish the goal. He also said that the foundation of the dream was the most important aspect since it would shape all that was to come.

Macen asked Gantz to think about it. He gave him an isolinear card with his comm address. He said he'd give Gantz three days to think it over and then he'd be gone.

Macen left and Gantz mulled it over. It was a daunting task. A larger endeavour than any Gantz had ever pursued. He seriously considered tossing aside the idea as pure rubbish. It was an impossible dream. Let some other fool pursue it.

He thought of his desire to retire and hide away from life. He grew angry with himself. He'd never bowed down to anything before and now he was going to let this event best him? He didn't think so!

Gantz refused to be beaten by anyone or anything. He'd live his life by that credo yet here he was about to abandon all in cowering submission to a happenstance. The more he thought about it the more Macen's offer sounded appealing.

He'd been a pirate, now he could be a privateer. He liked the ring of that notion. Even as a bounty hunter he'd never been fully legitimate. Now he could have the backing of the entire Federation.

Gantz put the isolinear card in the comm unit's terminal. After a moment, Macen appeared. Gantz told him of his desire to join up and become a member of the Outbound Ventures family. Macen was pleased that Gantz had made up his mind so swiftly. He asked that Gantz meet him at shuttle pad berth Twenty-one at local noon the next day. Gantz agreed and the rest had been history. It had been full of…_coffee_?

Gantz blinked and became aware of Macen holding a mug of steaming coffee in front of him. Macen smiled, "Sorry to break your reverie. I thought you might like a cup."

A sheepish grin spread across Gantz's face, "I guess I've been caught."

"Sort of." Macen grinned, "Ready to get down to business?"

"Sure." Gantz moved from the sofa to one of the chairs situated in front on Macen's desk, "Ready when you are."

Macen leaned back, "I know you're apprehensive about leading the dockside investigative team. I just wanted you to know you have nothing to worry about. You have twenty years experience chasing down clues and perpetrators. This won't be anything new for you."

Gantz sighed, "I know. It just feels different."

Macen's answering grin was a rueful one, "I know the feeling. When the Maquis handed me a ship and an intelligence unit to command, I almost panicked. Later, when Starfleet gave me command of a starship, I almost refused. Then I formed Outbound Ventures and took command of my own ship and my SID team. It was quite the leap of faith in my self. I managed to do it. So can you."

"But I'm used to working on my own." Gantz protested.

Macen laughed, "And I wasn't? I was a desk jockey turned field agent. I was sent out alone with no support. Working as a team player was something I learned. Leading a team was also something I mastered. No one expects perfection, Gantz. They just expect your best effort. Can you provide that?"

Feeling that old urge to overcome any obstacle, Gantz nodded; "Yeah. I can do it."

"Good." Macen approved of the sentiment, "Now here's a few things to look for…"

* * *

Vasily Gregor closed the connection with Ripoll. He'd known Starfleet Security would eventually become involved but later was always better than sooner. He mentally shrugged. It was just one more detail to be overcome.

Gregor turned to Henri Lavelle, the organisation's Communications Chief; "Henri, spread the word to the cell commanders. They need to know about this development."

Lavelle turned to his staff and went to work. Next, Gregor addressed AnnaBeth Korepanova, the NKVD's Intelligence guru, "What have you heard, Annie? Have your moles in the KGP and Starfleet found out if Security is closing in on us?"

Korepanova shook her head, "I haven't heard anything. All of my spies have been quiet."

"Perhaps too quiet." Gregor opined. He faced Mier Dragul. The Operations Chief was one of the few non-humans involved with the NKVD. The Farruck was fierce and bold in action. Those were traits he needed in his position.

"Do you think your plans have been compromised?" Gregor inquired of Dragul.

Dragul bared his fangs in an approximation of a smile, "Nary a one. Everything is going according to schedule. We'll have to revisit the arrangements for our next strike package but the dockyard and orbital works are proceeding apace."

"Good." Gregor commented, "Let's keep it that way. As long as we have to potentially revise our plans on tomorrow night's strikes, we might as well start now. Annie, take seat. Mier pull out your plans one more time. We have to see if there's a gap we're missing. If there is, this is our last chance to plug it."

Gregor's officers agreed and they set out to work.


	7. Chapter 7

With the _Obsidian_ safely ensconced in orbit, the investigative team beamed down to the surface. It was mid-morning local time when they materialised in Kremlin. They appeared before the Customs Office. Their business there nearly took an hour.

Having cleared Customs, they acquired motor scooters. Gantz selected one with a two passenger trailer while Macen and T'Kir shared one and Rockford rode alone. They split up, each pursuing their assigned goals.

Magnum Shipping's head office was located in the Dockside district. Upon arrival, Macen, T'Kir and Rockford met Magnum Rostov's impossibly young great-granddaughter. She was barely old enough to be out of school much less guiding an interstellar shipping concern.

"I know that look." Miranda Rostova sighed as Macen, T'Kir, and Rockford entered her office, "I get it all the time. Let's just start with the prelims: I have advanced degrees in Logistics and Business Administration from Oxford. I graduated with my post-doctoral degrees before I was twenty-one. I've always wanted to run the family concern and my father was more than happy to step aside and take over running the Federation's Emergency Management Agency. Business is up by a 3.4% margin and the company is thriving. Any questions?"

Macen and T'Kir exchanged wry grins. Rockford had the grace to merely smirk to herself. Macen made the introductions. Upon hearing Rockford's name Rostova was intrigued.

"Are you _the _Celeste Rockford?" she asked, "The celebrated private eye?"

"I don't know how celebrated I am but I am a private investigator." Rockford modestly replied.

"You worked for my father." Rostova enthused, "He spoke very highly of you."

"I could speak highly of him as well." Rockford admitted, "Although, I can't discuss the case."

"That's what he said." Rostova pouted and then changed the topic, "What are you doing working with Outbound Ventures? Captain Macen's reputation equals yours but I thought you were an independent?"

"I was." Rockford began to explain, "Macen made me an offer I couldn't refuse. My agency is now a subsidiary of Outbound Ventures and I'm working with his investigative team. They're good people and professionally they're a cut above the rest."

"High praise coming from you." Rostova admitted. She then returned her attention to Macen, "So Captain, I don't think you came here just to negotiate a retainer agreement."

"You'd be correct." Macen confessed, "Your labour negotiation was actually second on my list. Originally the government contracted with me to investigate material losses. With Kirov's near miss they're now more concerned with security than manufacturing."

Rostova's interest grew, "I'd be willing to take over that contract. There have been severe delays in receiving designated cargos because of mysterious losses that extend beyond the usual nonsense. These are items that were produced in number, or even overproduced, and there are still not enough units to fill my holds."

"I'd be interested in a list of the manufacturers that weren't able to meet their orders." Macen said.

"And I'd be more than happy to provide such a list." Rostova confessed.

"Then let's get started." Macen urged.

Rostova twinkled, "I'd be happy to. I'll call my assistant and have refreshments delivered by our caterer."

"`Bout time." T'Kir piped in.

Macen closed his eyes, "You'll have to be tolerant. She's apt to say whatever is on her, or your, mind."

Rostova laughed, "So I've heard. Never fear, I appreciate such candour."

"Then how `bout I look up your lists and you call ahead to the manufacturing sites and make sure we're welcome?" T'Kir suggested.

Just then, Rostova's assistant appeared. Rostova smiled, "Judith, could you escort these two ladies to your desk and let them use your computer?"

"Certainly, "Judith drawled, "it'll give me an added break."

"Before you luxuriate could you call catering and have an early lunch served to our guests?" Rostova asked.

"Of course." Judith sniffed, "Now, if you two will follow me?"

T'Kir gave one last, lingering glance in Macen's direction. Included was a telepathic message. He smiled and sent a message of his love back to her. She left with a carefree smile and a jaunty bounce to her step.

"Now," Rostova cracked her knuckles, "Let's get busy."

* * *

Gantz pulled the motor trike up to the foreman's office. Radil and Dracas dismounted from the carriage and took a look around. They'd spoken to many people but in the end they were always referred to one man: Dustan Ripoll. Giving up on individual inquiries, for now, they sought out Ripoll.

Two KGP officers stopped them outside of the Dockyard Workers' Office. After a brief conference, and an identification verification, the SID trio were sent on their way. They entered the office and there was quite a stir as the employees realised that their latest visitors were armed strangers.

Gantz asked to see Ripoll and the secretary paged him. Ten minutes later he came through the main entrance. His eyes widened and his eyebrows rose as he was pointed in the direction of the waiting visitors. He composed himself and, after making introductions, led them back to his office.

Ripoll ushered them into some scattered chairs that they arranged in front of his desk. He began the conversation.

"Outbound Ventures, eh?" Ripoll mused, "I thought you were a group of privateers. Always looking for pirates and the lot."

Gantz hesitated so Radil jumped in, "We are privateers. We're also licensed private investigators. This inquiry falls under both labels. Shipments have gone missing. The government _did_ want to investigate that. Now we're working for state firms. The disappearances may or may not have anything to do with pirates. We just don't know at this point."

Ripoll was impressed. On top of it, Gantz and Dracas were impressed. Ripoll took the opportunity to use the lull to redirect the conversation.

"I've heard of a fellow named Gantz who was in your line of work." Ripoll admitted, "He was some sort of bounty hunter."

"That's me." Gantz revealed.

"I heard you were retired." Ripoll countered.

"Not hardly." Gantz retorted.

"I see." Ripoll paused and then spoke again, "How can I help with your inquiry?"

"Have you noted any unusual activity on your docks?" Gantz asked.

"No." Ripoll replied.

"Any unassigned cargoes going into orbit?" Gantz enquired.

"No." Ripoll answered.

"Any cargo without proper billing and lading?" Gantz inquired.

"Again, no." Ripoll chimed.

Gantz rose, "Well, thanks for your help. We'll show ourselves out."

* * *

After the SID team members had left, Ripoll wanted to contact Gregor. He held off for fear of a nearby comm array tuned to his subspace frequency. He didn't know whose side Outbound Ventures was on and he needed to find out.

He started by contacting Outbound Ventures directly. They were willing to tell him which ship the trio were assigned to. Traffic Control logs confirmed that the _Obsidian _was indeed in orbit. Outbound Ventures also divulged the fact that the _Obsidian_ was at Bolshevik to negotiate a retainer with Mangum Shipping, LLC.

Captain Brin Macen, the ship's CO, had also just generated contracts with Magnum and several other firms to investigate material losses. The interesting part of the contracts was that Outbound Ventures split their fee between latinum and the Federation's usual gift exchange credits. Plans began rolling around in Ripoll's mind. There were so many possibilities. Of course, he needed Gregor's direction before he could proceed but he may have just solved dozens of their problems all at once.

* * *

A woman in coveralls was waiting at the trike, "I've heard about your questions. I have answers."

"So did the foreman." Gantz replied.

She wore a rueful smile, "I'm sure he did. Listen, pad Forty-Seven has unlisted flights in and out of it all day. They're cargo shuttles, orbital hoppers, and they take off and return in cycles. The pad's rarely empty for more than twenty minutes. The cargoes aren't labelled and they came from nowhere. Take a look for yourself."

"Thanks…?" Gantz asked.

"It's better that we never had this conversation." She said and walked away.

Dracas spoke as they all watched her retreating back, "Can we trust her?"

"Ripoll lied to us." Gantz said, "She sounded nervous enough to be telling the truth."

"Do you think Ripoll is part of it?" Dracas wondered.

"I wouldn't be surprised." Gantz admitted, "Anyone else up for a ride to pad Forty-Seven?"

He received affirmatives in stereo. They all took their places and Gantz wove through the foot traffic. They were going to get answers one way or another.

* * *

The other firms decided to collate their data all at Magnum Shipping. Ferris Designs sent over an engineer. Bernd Schneider was their best. His starship and starcraft designs had caught the attention of the Advanced Starship Design Bureau and he was joining their illustrious ranks next week.

The ASDB and the SPYards had an informal rivalry going on. Whereas the ASDB designed the starships of the future, the SPYards adapted the current generation of technology to be able to perform "beyond the specs" feats of wonder. Conversely, the ASDB frequently had to invent the technology going into their vessels.

While the SPYards functioned in absolute secrecy, like Q Branch, the ASDB worked hand in glove with the Starfleet Corps of Engineers. If the SCE couldn't maintain the exotic next generation of ships, then the ASDB was wasting its time. There had been failures and impractical designs in the past but for the most part the Bureau worked wonders.

Schneider reviewed the compiled lists and leaned back in his chair, "You have trouble."

"Why is that?" Macen asked.

"Individually, these components are harmless." Schneider explained, "Combined and installed within a spaceframe you'd get either an armed merchantman or an armed superliner. Actually, there's enough here to do both. Or, instead you could do four merchantmen or mix in some scouts instead. It all depends on what your end goal is."

"Let's assume it's power projection." Macen suggested, "Given what types of spaceframes are manufactured in orbit what would be the ideal usage of these components?"

Schneider thought about it and then replied, "I'd begin with the superliner. It'll require the most components and time to complete. You'd also want to construct at least one escort to engage smaller, faster, and manoeuvrable opponents. You could expand upon this formula as more materials and workers became available."

Macen pondered his words and then smiled, "Thank you, Doctor. Your assistance has proven to be invaluable."

"If you say so." Schneider rose, "I pointed you towards an industry. I was hoping to nail down the culprit. Sadly, there are too many shipwrights to point at any one and say 'there they are!'"

"You've pointed us in the right direction." Macen assured, "We couldn't ask for more. Congratulations on your appointment to the ASDB and good luck. I look forward to your next design."

"You will be around for it, won't you?" Schneider mused, "All right, I'll leave you to it. Good luck to you as well."

Schneider left and Macen turned to T'Kir, "You're on the data trail. When you find something curious, forward it on to Celeste or I and we'll examine it more closely."

"Y'got it Sweetcakes." T'Kir enthused, "Let's nail these bastards!"

Macen appreciated her sentiment but knew it would be far more difficult than it seemed.


	8. Chapter 8

Ripoll finally dared to contact Gregor in the afternoon after his shift concluded and he was able to go home. Gregor was intrigued by the Outbound Ventures line of inquiry, "So what did they do after leaving your office?"

"They camped out at Docks Forty-seven and Forty-eight." Ripoll answered.

"Did they learn anything?" Gregor wondered.

"They inspected a few shipping manifests and a couple of bills of lading." Ripoll replied, "All of the paperwork was generated by my office and was procedurally correct. They'd have to intimately know the finer points of Federation and Bolshevik customs regulations to detect any anomalies."

Gregor asked, "And you don't think that they do?"

"Their public records, although undoubtedly sanitised, did not indicate that any of them were familiar with cargo handling operations." Ripoll explained, "Gantz is a bounty hunter. While his knowledge base is undoubtedly esoteric he seemed at a loss when it dealt with my office."

"The other two, Joachim Dracas and Radil Jenrya, they are respectively an engineer and a mercenary. Dracas is from Magna Roma but there is little else to distinguish him." Ripoll continued, "Radil's career seems colourful but the woman herself seems quite lifeless. I don't think we have anything to fear from these three."

"Yes, I've already read their résumés." Gregor chuckled, "But what about their employer?"

"Employer?" Ripoll winced.

"Yes." Gregor spoke as if to a slow student, "Captain Brin Macen is also on the planet with T'Kir and Celeste Rockford. You should read their credentials as well. They are quite enlightening even if they're somewhat abbreviated."

"What do you mean?" Ripoll enquired.

"Macen was a Starfleet officer. If you read between the lines of his file, he went from being a highly decorated officer to being forced out of Starfleet. Given their ambiguity, those citations for valour and commendations hint at covert operations work. This seems to have ended with Macen joining the Maquis." Gregor replied, "T'Kir is an unknown until she appears on Starfleet's wanted list for acts of terrorism as a member of the Maquis. It's rumoured she's a cyberwitch. She has her own subsidiary business writing security software for clandestine agencies."

"Rockford is a highly successful private investigator. She'd earned her own sterling reputation before allying with Outbound Ventures in general and Macen in particular." Gregor went on, "And do you want to know what this trio was investigating today? They were pursuing material losses involving starcraft components and modules."

"Were they hired by the government?" Ripoll asked.

"Initially." Gregor indicated, "Magnum Shipping and others have taken up the banner and decided to pursue the matter after Kirov dropped the inquiry."

"How much do they know?" Ripoll enquired.

"It's undetermined. They spoke with Bernd Schneider." Gregor revealed, "He undoubtedly put the pieces together. What we do know is that Macen hasn't disclosed any of his findings thus far. We may be able to exploit that."

"Exactly what I was contacting you about." Ripoll disclosed, "What if we were to hire Macen to escort our latest shipment?"

There was silence. Finally Gregor spoke, "Intriguing notion. Who would make the initial contact?"

"Gantz already suspects me. I can see it in his eyes." Ripoll replied, "I could start the evaluation process and make the first contact."

"Excellent notion." Gregor said approvingly, "Do you know where they are?"

"Macen's unit is gathered at a dock rat pub called The Company Store." Ripoll divulged.

"Approach them tonight." Gregor instructed, "Have an active comm badge open and the command staff will monitor the situation."

"Understood." Ripoll acknowledged his instructions.

"Good luck," Gregor replied, "and happy hunting. Gregor out."

The comm signal ended and Ripoll returned his badge to the interior of his lapel. Using his comp/comm he summoned the rest of his cell. He told them to slowly filter into the bar and observe Macen's team. Ripoll and a couple of his toughs would be along shortly. Then they would deal with Macen and his cohorts.

* * *

Danan was at the bar ordering another synthale. Macen approached her. The group had moved three tables together and had just finished comparing notes. Danan and Grace had beamed down to the surface to participate in the ad hoc conference. Now that they had debriefed one another it was time to unwind and wait for the NKVD to make the first move.

"So what's troubling you?" Macen asked as he sidled up onto a stool beside hers.

"What makes you think anything is wrong?" Danan asked.

Macen gave her a wry response, "Lees, I know you too well. Besides, when you're close enough I can feel your inner turmoil. T'Kir's respecting your mental privacy but as a friend I thought I should find out what's wrong."

Danan smirked, "I bet it's killing her to keep out of my head."

Macen rolled his eyes, "You have no idea."

Danan let loose a frustrated sigh, "All right. I need to talk to _somebody_."

Macen grinned, "That's the spirit."

"It boils down to this: I've fallen in love with Tom Riker." Danan disclosed.

"And this is a bad thing?" Macen wondered.

"Brin, the last time I felt this way was with you and you fell for another woman. Tom's been quite the ladies' man in his time. How do I know there won't be a repeat of personal history?" Danan shared.

"I think you're confusing Tom Riker with Will Riker." Macen replied, "Tom Riker spent eight years stranded on a remote hell hole dreaming about one woman. In the time that he's been with us he's pursued two women: Jamie Kirk and you. I don't think you have to worry about Tom straying."

"And you _know_ this?" Danan wondered.

"I have my ways of knowing." Macen assured her, "Trust me. The risk will be worth it."

"I take it by the word 'risk' there's still an element of chance to it." Danan dryly remarked.

"I sense probabilities not certainties." Macen quipped, "Let's just say the odds are in your favour."

"I'll keep that in mind." Danan promised, "Now, what about your expected guests?"

"They're already here observing us." Macen cautiously reported, "T'Kir's been keeping tabs on everyone here. Apparently we're waiting for a cell leader to appear."

Three more strangers entered and Danan quipped, "Maybe that's them."

Macen's eyes met T'Kir's from across the room and her nod was almost imperceptible. He turned to Danan, "You must be a precog because that _is_ them."

Danan blinked in surprise. Macen strolled away from the counter and headed for his team's tables. Ripoll and his toughs had just arrived there.

"Hello Ripoll." Gantz drawled, "I wish I could say that this is a surprise."

Ripoll ignored Gantz's jibe, "Where's Macen?"

"Right here." Macen said, "I take it by Gantz's familiarity with you that you're the 1st shift Dock Supervisor."

"You'd be correct." Ripoll said, "Follow me. We need to talk."

"My wife's coming as well." Macen informed him.

"No." Ripoll flatly replied.

"She's telepathic." Macen revealed, "She'll know what you say to me irregardless if she's physically there or not."

Ripoll was dubious but he was still listening. Macen resumed, "You'll still have your two minders and you'll outnumber us. Where's the harm?"

Ripoll wondered what Gregor's instructions would be. T'Kir wore a wicked smile, "Gregor would tell you to take me along."

Ripoll turned white, "Where did you get that name?"

"From your thick skull, you lummox." T'Kir airily replied and then she held up her right hand, "I swear I won't scan you while we're discussing whatever. That slight headache you've been feeling is my telepathic probe. If you hadn't noticed, it's gone now."

Ripoll took a moment to run a mental self-assessment. Finally, he shrugged, "You're right. I suppose you won't co-operate unless we include her?"

Macen nodded. Ripoll wearily shook his head, "All right. You can come but no tricks."

"Of course not." T'Kir was wounded, "What d'ya take me for?"

"Trouble." Ripoll confessed. He motioned towards the door, "If you'd follow me?"

As Macen and T'Kir followed Ripoll and his two minders out of the pub, Gantz turned to Danan, "T'Kir's probes really cause headaches?"

Danan laughed, "Her _overt_ probes cause discomfort. Her subtler probes of reading casual and surface thoughts are painless. You never know it's happening until she zings you with a reply to them."

Gantz smirked, "It'll be interesting to hear what she picks up from these jokers."

* * *

Ripoll led them to a nearby café. He ordered coffees for everyone. The establishment was quite busy. Ripoll looked around and smiled.

"Bolshevik at its best. This eatery uses fresh ingredients and no replicated foodstuffs. They serve anyone." He proudly boasted.

"I take it there are other cases." Macen prodded him for answers.

"The Communist elite enjoy exclusive shops, restaurants, travel, housing, and police protection." Ripoll grumbled, "They're corrupt and must be replaced."

"By the NKVD?" Macen asked, "What makes you think you're any better?"

"What's this 'you' business?" Ripoll scoffed, "I'm just a concerned citizen."

"You're NKVD." Macen bluntly replied, "Nearly half of the patrons in that pub were NKVD. I'm betting that that was the bulk of your cell."

Ripoll cast an accusing glance in T'Kir's direction, "She tell you that?"

Macen shook his head, "She didn't have to. Our years with the Maquis told me all I needed to know. She just agreed with me."

Ripoll chuckled, "I'm not confessing to anything but I have to tell you that the Maquis are heroes to other like-minded citizens."

"Is that why you decided to contact me or is my investigation coming too close?" Macen enquired.

Ripoll stared at him shrewdly, "You are too smart for your own good. Let's just say we're in the market for some help."

"No unnecessary killing and no assassinations." Macen insisted, "That's my rule for every prospective client."

"Would you be willing to forgo your current investigation?" Ripoll asked.

Macen met the other man's challenging gaze, "I can report that the thefts were the result of NKVD action and leave it at that. That would satisfy my professional conscience."

Ripoll smiled, "I think that would be satisfactory. We'll be leaving now. Meet us here tomorrow at the same time if your interested in work. Call the KGP and we'll know it. Report anything else to Magnum Shipping and we'll know it and the prospective deals off. Any questions?"

"Nope." Macen blithely replied, "See you tomorrow."

Ripoll and the two toughs disappeared into the night. Macen and T'Kir finished their coffee and then returned to the pub to collect their teammates. With that task completed by returning to the ship, Macen began his summary report for Magnum Shipping. It contained exactly what he'd suggested to Ripoll and nothing else.


	9. Chapter 9

Macen and T'Kir motor scootered their way around Arkangel Bay. The large cove boasted several islands and was the largest sea inlet to Kremlin. Cargo ships from around the planet sent raw resources here and in return end products went out. The overland trucking routes were also highly utilised but nothing compared to the shipments sent by sea.

The pair's morning meeting with Miranda Rostova had not gone well. She readily accepted their report and evidence that the NKVD was responsible for the losses. When she had broached the subject of hiring Macen's group to apprehend the NKVD Macen balked.

He informed her that he would not interfere in an ongoing investigation conducted by local law enforcement. She pointed in his record that he had before. Macen shook his head and stated that in those cases the locals had welcomed him. That wasn't the situation here. Macen declined the contract and Rostova was upset.

The one prize was that she'd awarded the retainer agreement. This seemed to be a slim consolation but Rostova accepted what she could get. She transferred the gift credits into Outbound Ventures' coffers and Macen and T'Kir went their own way.

Danan had reported that the nanobugs T'Kir had sent Ripoll's way and moved across town and onto one of the islands in the bay. Macen and T'Kir were circumnavigating the bay on land and checking out the island chain. They wouldn't be able to see much but it would give them a basic feel for the place.

The rest of the team was split up into pairs and mapping out Kremlin. Gantz and Radil were taking the Northern and Western sections. Dracas and Rockford were handling the Southern and Eastern parts of town.

Macen and T'Kir had almost completed their sweep around the islands. Whenever they reached a new vantage point they stopped and took out their macrobinoculars. They'd surveyed the coastlines and structures of each island while ostensibly posing as tourists. Their binoculars took holopictures of each view for further study.

They were now studying the east end of the largest island. It had a large blockhouse reminiscent of Alcatraz built upon it. The similarities in structure and layout were quite disturbing.

"Notice the sentries appear unarmed but I bet they are." Macen said.

"Yup." T'Kir agreed, "They're standin' post. Whatever is in there is pretty important."

"The map reader lists this as a former Red Army base." Macen reminded her, "These guys could be complete dimwits and hold us off forever."

"What's Lees gotta say `bout it?" T'Kir wondered.

Macen commed Danan and asked. The news was grim.

"Sorry Brin," Danan replied, "the installation is shielded. Sensors and transporters can't penetrate its surface. All I can tell you is that the sensor logs reported Ripoll entering this facility this morning and he just left it ten minutes ago."

"Damn!" Macen swore, "We've got to go otherwise we'll be late for our meeting."

"Bye." Danan cheerily signed off.

"Let me drive." T'Kir insisted.

"No." Macen firmly insisted, "You always drive. It's my turn."

"Nyuh!" T'Kir stuck out her tongue but she got on the scooter and wrapped her arms around him as he took off.

* * *

They managed to reach the café before Ripoll and his stooges arrived. It had taken a ride at breakneck speeds and hairpin turns. T'Kir loved every minute of it and enthusiastically recalled every moment with Macen while they waited.

Ripoll's arrival interrupted their merriment. His two favourite goons were with him again. They were both female and hard-bitten. Neither SID agent doubted that either woman would go down without a tremendous fight.

Ripoll was honestly pleased to see them, "I see you are intrigued by the potential of working with us."

"I'm intrigued by how much latinum I could earn by doing so." Macen informed him, "Clandestine groups frequently traffic in large amounts of liquid assets. Since you can't openly purchase goods and services you have to rely upon a covert means of exchange, ergo: currency."

"And that appeals to you?" Ripoll asked.

"I do a lot of business outside of the Federation." Macen explained, "Negotiable assets are invaluable in my line of work."

"I'd believe it. We find the same to be true." Ripoll said, "Now, follow me."

"I thought we were going to discuss the contract." Macen countered.

"We are." Ripoll assured him, "We're just going to do it at a private venue."

"This venue wouldn't happen to be an island, would it?" Macen asked.

Ripoll smiled, "Our sensors detected the two of you observing the islands. How did you find us?"

"My team was scouting out escape routes and hiding places throughout the city." Macen offered as an explanation, "We chose to look at the islands in the bay. I recognised the blockhouse as a military structure and saw that sentries were posted. Curiosity propelled us to find out more."

Ripoll mulled that over, "Fair enough. Now if you'd accompany me. We have a van waiting to take you to the port where we have a boat waiting."

Macen exchanged a glance with T'Kir. She nodded and Macen returned his attention to Ripoll, "All right. This is your game. We'll play it your way."

* * *

The trip to the island headquarters of the NKVD went exactly as laid out by Ripoll. Once inside the blockhouse they were led through the corridors until they reached a command centre. Three people awaited them there. Vasily Gregor, AnnaBeth Korepanova, and Mier Dragul rose as Macen and T'Kir entered the facility.

Gregor smiled, "Captain Macen, your reputation precedes you." He turned to face T'Kir, "It precedes both of you. Your reputation is quite impressive as well, my dear. You have an impressive track record."

"We just do the job, whatever it may be." Macen replied.

"But you continue to work for Starfleet." Gregor was genuinely baffled, "I find that odd considering that you're a former Maquis and also keeping in mind how they treated you in the past."

"I accept those jobs that fulfil my ideological litmus test." Macen explained, "Like whatever proposal you're going to make. I'm willing to listen because I fought an oppressive government with every means at my disposal. We also policed ourselves and our fellow settlers. I can understand your position even if I don't always agree with your methods."

Gregor laughed, "I like you. You're candid and straight to the point."

Macen shrugged, "I try."

"If you two will join us in our main briefing room we'll get underway."

As the duo followed the NKVD leadership into their briefing room, Macen mentally queries T'Kir; _Anything interesting?_

_ Yup._ T'Kir thoughtcast in reply, _Gregor is really Vasily Gregorivitch Kolchik. He's a Colonel in the Red Army. The Army has quietly endorsed him and his plans. If revolution does break out, the army will follow Gregor's lead._

_ Anything on what we'll be involved with or their operational plans? _Macen wondered.

_Nope. They were warned about me. Their disciplining their minds to stay on the topic at hand. All I c'n get is we're to guard some kinda cargo run._ T'Kir explained.

Then they were being seated so they ceased their communication.

"Anything wrong, Captain?" Gregor asked, "You looked distracted."

"Nothing much." Macen admitted, "I was just trying to guess what this is about."

"You shall soon see." Gregor promised.

Meanwhile, T'Kir painted Gregor with a sensor beam from her watch and released the nanobugs hidden within it. They flew to Gregor and attached themselves to his skin. Even bathing would not dislodge them. They would remain where they were until their batteries died three days later.

T'Kir had designed the bugs with Danan's help. T'Kir had handled the engineering. Danan supplied the scientific wherewithal to make them stand out in a sensor sweep.

Unaware of any of this, Gregor activated a large viewscreen. It showed a plot from Zetrus VI to Bolshevik. Zetrus VI lay outside of the Federation's boundaries and was infamous for its prolific weapons sales.

"So you want us to escort a weapons shipment." Macen surmised.

"Exactly." Gregor confirmed it, "This weapon will ensure our victory."

"Would it be too presumptuous to ask what kind of weapon it is?" Macen inquired.

"Yes, it would be." Gregor replied, "All I can say is that this will reduce the casualties that an all out revolution would inflict upon our world. This way only a mere handful die instead of masses of innocent civilians."

"Reduced civilian casualties are always a good thing." Macen commented, "All right we're in. We pick up the freighter at Zetrus VI and we escort it here. Sounds simple enough."

Macen surprised Gregor with his next question, "Who is the weapons supplier?"

"Why would you need to know that?" Gregor wondered.

I need to know if there are any extra precautions I need to take. Contacting the supplier is the best way of ascertaining those needs." Macen answered.

Gregor glanced at Korepanova and Dragul. Korepanova shrugged. Dragul slowly, ever so slowly, nodded his head in agreement. Gregor returned his focus to Macen, "The suppliers name is Boromov."

"_Pytor _Boromov?" Macen asked.

"You know him?" Gregor was surprised.

"Boromov goes way back with us." Macen supplied as a reply.

"Good." Gregor was delighted.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to contact Pytor myself. He'll be surprised to hear from me." Macen requested.

"Of course." Gregor agreed.

"If we're all set…" Gregor began.

"Not quite." Macen interrupted, "We still haven't discussed compensation."

"Of course." Gregor said indulgently, "What we were thinking was…"

* * *

Rafe Villiers smiled at his visitor, "I hope your stay has been a pleasant one thus far."

Enrick Gaston returned the smile, baring his fangs, "Your staffers have been accommodating enough although my dietary requirements appal them."

Villiers could understand that. The Lantilians were a vampiric race. Their principle diet consisted of fresh blood. Although over the last few centuries they had developed a tolerance for small amounts of raw meat.

Gaston served as Bertram Sindis' chief lieutenant. He'd been sent to Bolshevik to ascertain whether or not Sindis' plans for the planet were proceeding apace. So far every indication was that they were.

"Sindis will be pleased to learn you are near to completing the task of toppling the government." Gaston said, "When that is accomplished and you are elected premier you can secede from the Federation and join our conglomeration."

Villiers toasted him, "That's the plan. More plasma?"

"Not yet." Gaston waved him off, "It goes straight to my head."

Villiers laughed, "So does my wine. That's why I'm nursing it."

"I have to ask: where did you acquire your blood stores?" Gaston wondered, "It is a new, rich flavour for me. I could develop a taste for it."

"I hope not." Villiers chuckled, "It's freshly cloned human blood. I'd hate to see you start feeding off of humans."

Gaston grinned, "Much more of this and I may."

"All right." Villiers relented, "But just don't do it on my planet."

Gaston held up his right hand, "I so swear."

"Good." Villiers smiled, "Now when you make your report be sure to thank Sindis for all of his support. It's been invaluable. The NKVD would have folded a long time ago without his anonymous donations."

"Don't forget Pytor Boromov." Gaston reminded him, "Without his connections within the Federation we would have been discovered long ago."

"Why did someone like Boromov get involved?" Villiers had to ask.

"Boromov is an anarchist and a chaos theoretician." Gaston explained, "He believes that the more random the universe is the more beneficial it will be by creating new and evolving patterns. The current Federation is far too stagnant for his taste."

"Whatever his reasons I'm glad he joined us." Villiers remarked.

"I hate to break up this soirée but one more drink and I must go." Gaston informed his host.

"Yes, you mustn't keep the great man waiting." Villiers smiled and poured the drinks.


	10. Chapter 10

Macen and T'Kir were returned to the café. As they retrieved their rented motor scooter an exasperated T'Kir let loose, "How come when we talk to the baddies or whoever, they talk t'you and treat me like a flamin' piece of furniture?"

"Because, as captain, I'm expected to make all of the final and important decisions. Which I do." Macen explained.

"That's another thing." T'Kir grumbled, "I'm your business partner. Why can't I be co-captain or somethin'?"

"That doesn't work." Macen sighed, "I tried that with Tom, remember? It was a disaster."

"Okay, point taken." T'Kir relented.

"I respect and desire your counsel, m'love." Macen held her hands, "But you can't be captain."

"Ooo-kay." T'Kir pouted, "I give up. No mutinies today."

"Thank you." With that said, Macen kissed her. She responded and the kiss went from gentle to fierce. It also lingered for a moment. When it ended Macen smiled, "There'll be time for more after we get back to the ship."

"I'm holdin' you t'that, mister." T'Kir vowed.

"Or we could resume at one of those little coves in the bay." Macen suggested.

T'Kir grew excited, "You're on!"

* * *

Macen and T'Kir rematerialised aboard the _Obsidian_. Telrik noted two things: they lugged a picnic basket and they were drenched from head to toe. Danan was waiting for them as well and she smirked, "And what have you two little scamps been up to?"

"We had a picnic on the beach and then the tide rolled in." T'Kir explained.

"And you couldn't get out of the water?" Danan dryly asked.

"We were busy." T'Kir retorted.

"I bet." Danan said with a knowing smile, "So what else happened besides you two replaying _From Here to Eternity_?"

"We've got a job." Macen spoke up, "I need to gather up the team and Shannon. We're going into action."

* * *

Macen and T'Kir took turns explaining the meeting that they'd had. Macen then addressed Gantz, "The Farruck, Dragul, spoke with me after the primary meeting concluded. He wants to hire you and Celeste to profile and observe several MP's. They're obviously targets but this would give you an opportunity to get into the good graces of the NKVD and get closer to them."

"All right but I'm also taking Joachim and Radil with me." Gantz grinned, "They can be my grunt labourers."

"Sounds good." Macen agreed, "You're to contact Ripoll and get your marching orders tomorrow morning local time. We'll beam you down immediately. Grab whatever accommodations you can."

"I wonder of the local Hilton is booked?" Gantz mused.

"If it isn't get two adjoining suites." Macen instructed.

"All right!" Gantz crowed.

Macen turned to Forger, "Shannon, your job should be relatively easy. Meet up with this freighter at Zetrus VI and escort it here."

"What about the mysterious weapon?" Forger wondered.

"We'll intercept it on the ground if we have to." Macen replied.

"You said 'I'll' be doing it." Forger pointed out, "Where will you be?"

"T'Kir, Hannah, and I will be going to Risa to interrogate Boromov." Macen clarified, "I want to know what that weapon is and what it's intended for."

"And we'll rendezvous back at Bolshevik?" Forger asked.

"That's the plan." Macen confirmed.

Danan groaned, "Ancients preserve us. He's got a plan."

* * *

The _Obsidian _exited the system at impulse. After clearing the outer markers, and the early warning buoys, the _Corsair _launched. The two craft separated, each heading at warp towards their destinations and their individual missions.

The ground team had indeed secured lodgings in the Kremlin Hilton. Rockford and Radil shared a suite and Dracas and Gantz shared the other. They'd arrived late in the evening and the sun rose quickly.

In the central room of the men's suite Dracas and Radil were seated in the dining area and enjoying breakfast off of the carts room service had brought. Rockford had opened up Gantz's room and shooed away his evening's companion. Next she kicked Gantz's dangling leg.

"Wake up!" Rockford shouted.

Gantz came up in a hurry. His eyes were red, swollen, and still cloudy from the copious amounts of alcohol he'd consumed the night before. His head was in a fog.

"Wha's up?" he slurred.

"What's up?" Rockford archly repeated, "Last night you drank the bar dry, hooked up with a local floozy, and came knocking on our door to see if Jenrya wanted to join the two of you."

Rockford knelt beside the bed and met Gantz at eye level, "I don't care how you spend your nights but if you ever do that to Jenrya again I will break you." Her sweet smile only added venom to her words. With that said, she rose and exited the bedroom.

It took several minutes for Gantz to appear in the dining nook. Although clean and nicely pressed he still looked haggard. His eyes lighted upon the two carts of food and he remarked, "By all that's holy! Where did all this food come from?"

"Room service." Rockford answered with an unspoken "Duh!"

"By why so much?" Gantz wondered.

"Jenrya and I didn't know what you guys would want." Rockford explained, "Besides, how often do we get to indulge ourselves like this?"

Gantz pondered it and a smile began to bloom on his face, "Too right." He sat down at the table, "Please pass me the pancakes and the eggs."

"How many would you like?" Dracas asked.

"All of 'em." Gantz grinned.

* * *

Later, a bloated Gantz led the others to Ripoll's office. Ripoll graciously led them to his personal office. He eyed Rockford.

"You must be Celeste Rockford. I have to confess I didn't expect anyone so...compact." Ripoll said.

Rockford smiled, "I think 'petite' is the word you're searching for."

Ripoll grinned, "Exactly." His gaze landed upon Radil and Dracas, "I thought you two would be coming alone."

"We've learned the value of 'fetch and carry' personnel." Gantz explained, "Besides, Radil's skill set lands near ours and Dracas' engineering abilities will prove useful when relating to equipment."

"I see your point." Ripoll relented. He reached into a desk drawer and retrieved a padd. He rose and handed it to Gantz.

"There are your suspects, all six of them." He announced.

"Suspects?" Rockford asked.

"Yes. Suspects, m'dear." Ripoll answered, "We don't know the extent of these individuals' crimes or if they're even guilty of any. You are going to answer those questions."

Gantz slapped his knees and rose, "Have no fears. We're on the case."

Ripoll shook hands with all of them before they exited the building. Although he didn't quite trust the quartet he knew that they would be, at least initially, watched by NKVD volunteers. While these particular Ministers of Parliament had escaped the prying eyes of the NKVD regulars, he knew that there would no escaping these four. He chuckled at that thought and returned to work.


	11. Chapter 11

Three days later the _Corsair _landed on the VIP shuttle lot of the Royale hotel and Casino. The latest brochures revealed that the Casino had been reduced in size and a new nightclub, the Hades, had been built to fill the vacant space. All they knew about it was that it advertised having a BDSM flavour. Full regalia was encouraged but not required.

As they exited the runabout they were met by Security and Customs. Once again, Susan Haywright was amongst their numbers. She'd apparently served her time on a penal colony and was back heading up Boromov's security force.

Haywright smirked upon recognising Macen's team, "Let me guess, you won't surrender your weapons?"

"Right." Macen confirmed it.

"And you're here to see Mr. Boromov?" Haywright ticked off.

"Right again." Macen replied.

"And I should dismiss everyone and take you to him straightaway." She concluded.

"You have an amazing grasp of the situation." Macen smiled.

"All I can tell you is that I don't know what he's up to." Haywright confessed, "He's up to something but I'm staying out of it. I don't want to get sent to another terraforming penal colony."

"A truly repentant soul would have contacted the authorities to tell them he was up to something." Macen replied, "But if you take us to him we'll consider that to be your good deed."

"All right." Haywright agreed, "Whatever keeps me square with the law."

Haywright escorted them to the entrance of the Hades. She remained outside as the SID trio entered in. The scene inside seemed to leap out of the pages of Dante's _Inferno_.

Black leather and chains dominated the composition of the outfits worn by the revellers. T'Kir's head to toe leather garb blended in nicely. Macen's dark green Field Duty Uniform sweater and black FDU pants, boots, and mock turtleneck stood out. Grace's khaki and cream desert uniform topped of by a brown flight jacket also contrasted the general motif. There were also a smattering of those who wore their usual garb but most of the Royale's guests embraced the fantasy.

The guests parted like the Red Sea as the SID agents waltzed through them. Their openly displayed weaponry and lack of Starfleet uniform frightened them. The recent quadrant-wide public turmoil still registered in their minds as did the past roving bands of armed humanoids.

Bouncers took note and commed the office. The office was comprised of an overhead, encased booth. From there Boromov could survey the crowds and invite visitors. The club's press releases stated that Boromov did the bulk of his business transactions there.

Macen thoughtcast T'Kir, _Anything?_

_Yah. Some of these people are sick. They're thinkin' of stuff that ain't even legal. _T'Kir commented.

Macen was surprised to hear her pass judgement. The Federation did little to regulate sexual activities. Laws were in place to protect children and animals but just about everything else was accepted. T'Kir was a champion of those same mores.

_I don't think I want to know. _Macen confessed.

_The Elements know I surely don't. _T'Kir complained.

_Hang in there. _Macen urged, _Remember, we snatch Boromov, get the hell out of here, and hold him in the _Corsair's _brig._

_"Glad t'hear it but c'n we hurry up?_ There was a plaintive quality to T'Kir's thoughts and Macen promised that the action was about to start.

"Head's up." Grace suddenly said. Macen and T'Kir followed her line of sight and it led to the overhead alcove. There in the window for all to see was Pytor Boromov.

"Here they come." T'Kir nodded in the direction of four bouncers headed their way.

"Behind us too." Macen remarked. Four more were coming up from behind to form a circle around them. The outnumbered Outbound Ventures officers formed a triangle. They almost felt sorry for the unsuspecting men and women confronting them. _Almost._

The bouncers rushed in as one. T'Kir flattened her first opponent with a blow to his face. Grace levelled one with a punch to the man's throat. As another tried to grab her, she finished off the choker with a knee strike to the head.

T'Kir shoved one back and then finished her off with a backspin kick. The bouncers, assessing her as the greatest threat, concentrated their forces on her. She relished the chance for some action.

Macen had driven a punch from his shoulder into the face of the first bouncer to reach him. He then drove a knee into his gut and completed the task with a savage downward punch across the man's jaw. His next opponent was far more leery. She caught him across the jaw with an expert punch. As he staggered backward, she threw another. He caught her wrist and inverted it. She cried out in pain and then he swept her legs out from underneath her. Then he landed on her with his knees and drove her into unconsciousness from lack of oxygen.

Grace's second foe had her from behind. She stomped on his instep, broke free from his grip and swung her fist down to impact his groin. He started to go down and she unleashed a savage elbow strike to the head. He collapsed in a heap.

As they watched, T'Kir dispatched her last two attackers. With that finished, Grace spotted Boromov down on the main floor, trying to escape. The three of them drew their weapons and cut through the crowd.

Boromov was headed for a fire exit in the rear of the club. Macen stopped, adjusted the power setting of his phaser, adopted a Weaver stance, and fired. The particle beam struck Boromov between the shoulders and he went down.

They caught up with him to find that he was groggy and disoriented. Macen and T'Kir hauled him up onto his feet. They each then wrapped an arm over their shoulders and began to carry Boromov out to the front entrance. He dazedly shuffled along with them.

They went around the strewn bodies and exited the club. As they left, the music began to play and the fetish delights resumed. Haywright was slightly alarmed.

"Is he all right?" she asked.

"I hit him with a low level stun blast." Macen explained, "He'll be fine in twenty minutes or so."

"Well, I had Security drop off a cart." Haywright informed them, "we can use it to transport him wherever."

Macen grinned, "Then let's load him up and head for our ship."

They did so and were off. On their way Haywright's wrist communicator chimed and a red light began flashing, "Someone's tripped the alarm. It must have been one of the bouncers at the club."

"What's their response time?" Macen asked.

"They'll be at the club in five to ten minutes." She explained, "After that they'll head for your ship. I'll try to hold them off for as long as possible."

"You don't have to." Macen advised.

"Yes, I do." Haywright replied with conviction, "I've been meaning to look for a new job anyway."

T'Kir squeezed her shoulder from behind, "If y'ever need a reference, y'c'n count on us."

"Thanks." Haywright said with heartfelt honesty.

* * *

Haywright stood guard outside as Boromov, now almost fully recovered, was led into the _Corsair's_ interior and straight to the single occupancy brig contained within. Grace sealed the hatch and began a pre-flight sequence. Macen and T'Kir watched on sensors as Royal Island Security and Starfleet Security arrived. Haywright had little explaining to do as Starfleet assumed jurisdiction, as was common with kidnapping cases.

The Starfleet Lieutenant in charge hailed the _Corsair's _occupants on a general frequency. Macen answered, "How can I help you, Lieutenant Bellamy?"

"You can begin by releasing your hostage and then surrendering." Bellamy answered.

"Have you run our vessel's registration through the Starfleet database yet?" Macen wondered.

"No." Bellamy's certainty wavered, "Not yet."

"Do that and call me back." Macen instructed.

* * *

Outside, Bellamy was flummoxed. He called over a nearby ensign, "Walters, have HQ run down this vessels name and registration. I want to know everything about her."

"Yessir." The ensign crisply responded and hurried off.

* * *

"Hannah, keep an eye on things." Macen instructed as he and T'Kir exited the cockpit. They went to the brig and stood outside of the cell. Boromov was alert but miserable.

"Can you please give me something for my headache?" he demanded.

"No." Macen replied, "But we can offer you tea or coffee."

"I'll take a cup of Earl Grey if you please." Boromov grunted. He faced T'Kir, "Well, what are you waiting for psiwitch? Pull my head apart already."

"Sorry, chum. I'll only d'that if y'don't co-operate." T'Kir let him down gently, "And y'might become a vegetable if I do."

"But I can't betray my clients." Boromov whined, "Do you know what they'd do to me if I violate their trust?"

"You might have to go out of the weapons smuggling business?" Macen asked as he showed up with a tray containing two cups of tea for Boromov and mugs of coffee for him and T'Kir.

T'Kir took her mug and dropped the forcefield as Macen delivered the tea. He retrieved his mug and left the tray on the cell's bed as he exited the brig. T'Kir reactivated the field as Boromov miserably weighed his choices.

"I'll add another factor to your decision making process," Macen informed him, "The Federation Council offered you a special, conditional pardon. If I report this infraction you'll spend the rest of your natural life on a penal colony. A very uncomfortable penal colony. Think about it."

Boromov sullenly sat on his cell while Macen and T'Kir returned to the cockpit.

* * *

"Lieutenant Bellamy!" Ensign Walters voice cracked, "You aren't going to believe this. Look what HQ uploaded to my padd."

Bellamy accepted the padd and began reading its contents. The runabout was the same one. But there was a Class Nine directive attached to the file. He opened it.

The directive clearly stated that the runabout and its crew were to go unmolested regardless of their activities. In fact, Starfleet personnel were called upon to assist the crew in any way and prevent their detainment. Bellamy couldn't believe it.

"Someone's got to be joking." He exclaimed.

"Look at who issued the directive." Walters advised her superior.

Bellamy double checked the Admiral's sign off. It had been issued by Admiral Alynna Nechayev, the Ice Queen of Starfleet Intelligence herself. Bellamy swallowed hard.

"Round up the detail." Bellamy quickly ordered, "Have them dismiss the local security force and set a cordon around this ship. No one approaches it or harms it at all."

"Yessir!" Walters snapped off a salute.

Bellamy shook his head and wished that she wouldn't do that anymore.

* * *

Meanwhile, Boromov buzzed the cockpit, "I've made my choice."

Macen and T'Kir went to one of the runabout's aft modules. There, Boromov looked more miserable than ever, "The NKVD is importing a biogenic weapon. One of the MP's has signed off on the cargo, therefore authorising it."

"What's its range and where do they plan on using it?" Macen inquired.

"It only releases toxins in a one hundred metre radius. However, one of the staffers at the Kremlin's Government House is sabotaging the ventilation system. NKVD agents posing as HVAC technicians will 'repair' the damage and plant the bomb. The plan is set to commence in four days." Boromov revealed, "The Prime Minister will host a luncheon for his Cabinet members while the regular staff is out to lunch."

"Pretty clever." T'Kir commented. Macen looked at her and she grew defensive, "Well, it is."

Macen sighed and deactivated the forcefield, "You're free to go."

Boromov hurried out of the cell and headed for the primary hatch. There, T'Kir opened the hatch and let Boromov outside. Starfleet Security received him and then held the line as curious bystanders pressed forward to see what was going on.

The _Corsair's _hatch sealed and the boarding ramp retracted. With the pre-flight sequence completed they were airborne within minutes. As they departed Risa they left behind a gaggle of curious Starfleet officers and one man rethinking his future ventures.


	12. Chapter 12

En route to Bolshevik, the crew of the _Corsair_ discovered that the subspace relays servicing the planet were down. _All_ of them. The coincidence was far beyond random chance.

"All frequencies are down." Grace sarcastically mimicked, "Service will resume shortly."

"_Frinxers_ ain't subtle, are they?" T'Kir rhetorically asked.

"Bouncing off the relay yesterday before it went down, we ascertained that the _Obsidian_ and her client had already arrived." Macen surmised, "Which means the cargo has already been off-loaded."

"Sure." T'Kir's sarcasm ratcheted way up, "Cheer us up, why don'cha?"

Macen looked from T'Kir to Grace and back again, "What is this? Gang up on your captain day?"

"Sweetie, you'd know if we were really ganging up on you." T'Kir purred and then her mood mercurially shifted, "Y'got somethin' on your mind so spill it!"

"We know where they'll take the bomb." Macen confided, "All we have to do is set a cordon around it."

"Ain't that a large proposition considerin' how few of us there are?" T'Kir asked.

"Not us directly." Macen explained, "The KGP can handle it."

"So, we're breaking cover?" Grace wondered.

"Kirov and the KGP need to be warned." Macen replied, "And we're the only ones in a position to do so." Macen suddenly grinned, "Don't worry. I don't intend for the locals to go without support. We'll be down there as well."

"Yay for us! Bad for the baddies!" T'Kir cheered.

"What's our ETA to Bolshevik?" Macen asked.

"Just over ten hours." Grace replied off the top of her head. Macen knew to not dispute her estimates. She'd be right every time.

"Good." Macen grinned again, "We should be able transmit to Bolshevik with minimum comm lag."

Grace rechecked her distance combined with subspace travel time and whistled, "You did that in your head. I'm impressed, Captain."

"Don't be." Macen replied, "The computer helped."

"Oh." Now Grace was far less than impressed, "Well, at least you tried."

"Thanks, Hannah." Macen deadpanned.

T'Kir swivelled to face Macen again, "I've routed the comm functions y'r way."

Macen leaned over and kissed her, "Thanks Honey."

"How come he never does that for me?" Grace wondered.

Macen and T'Kir gave her a couple of blank looks and she laughed, "Just kidding folks. I prefer to get my lovin' from Ian."

"Sister, that's a good thing. Otherwise I'd have t'hurt ya." T'Kir joked.

"I'd like to see you try." Grace replied with more than a hint of challenge in her voice.

T'Kir blinked in surprise and then thoughtcast a question to Macen, _Is she serious?_

_Yup. _He replied.

_Well, I can't read her mind. C'n you get anything off of her? _She asked.

_Just that she's supremely confident in her abilities. Even more so than usual. _Macen mentally told her. _All I can tell you is that this was the way she felt before she was stripped of her Attuner._

_Y'don't think...?_ T'Kir hesitantly wondered.

_I'm trying not to. _Macen admitted, _But I think we need to keep an eye on Hannah from now on._

_This sucks. _T'Kir declared.

_Yup_. Macen replied, _Now, if you don't mind, I have a message to send._

"Ooo-kay." She said and then began a long range sensor sweep.

Grace wondered where the sudden statement came from and then realised the response stemmed from the couple's telepathic rapport. She knew they'd undoubtedly been discussing her and she found that she didn't care. Her life was almost complete and she was enjoying it to the maximum.

Macen felt the emotional impact of these thoughts. He refocused on the task at hand and transmitted a message to the _Obsidian_. Once he was received he laid out the details of what was going on to Forger and Danan. They put him in touch with Gantz's team. Needless to say, they were all less than happy.

Macen advised Gantz to make their final reports to Ripoll. They would then observe the NKVD's island. The KGP would relieve them and they would withdraw to a location of Macen's choosing.

With that settled Macen commed Kirov's private channel. Kirov immediately answered and was delighted with the identity of his caller. Macen decided to forgo the formalities.

"Mr. Premier your life is in danger." Macen warned.

"Always." Kirov chuckled.

"Sir," Macen grew angry, "listen to me. The NKVD already has a biogenic weapon on the planet. Tomorrow they plan on inserting the bomb in the building's environmental system and killing you and your Cabinet during your luncheon."

Kirov's face drained of all colour, "My God! What can be done?"

"The NKVD is headquartered in a Red Army base in Arkangel Bay." Macen began to explain.

"Yes, I know the installation." Kirov replied.

"Deploy the KGP and take the island. Even if you miss the bomb you'll still gather invaluable intelligence on the NKVD." Macen suggested.

"But what if we miss the bomb?" Kirov fretted.

"My team has a plan." Macen assured him, "But we need two groundcars left at the Customs office. Convertibles if you can get them."

"The KGP can sacrifice two unmarked cars." Kirov assured him, "They will be there waiting within the hour."

"I'll send you the list of personnel with access to the cars." Macen advised him.

"It would be appreciated Captain." Kirov admitted, "I look forward to the end of this problem."

"We'll discuss endings after I stop the bomb." Macen promised. He then terminated the transmission. It would take over ten hours to arrive. That would place them on Bolshevik on the morning of the fourth day local time. Just enough time for Gantz and the rest to gather the info he needed.

* * *

Gantz commed Ripoll. Ripoll was listed in the central directory so he wasn't surprised to find that Gantz had tracked him down. Gantz's offer to provide his team's report a day early was.

"Are you certain you're prepared?" Ripoll asked.

"We finished the last profile this afternoon." Gantz reported.

"Then meet me at The Company Store in twenty minutes." Ripoll ordered.

"Agreed." Gantz turned to the waiting SID members, "Let's pack up and make our rendezvous."

* * *

Ripoll met them at the appointed time. His two toughs came as well. Rockford and Radil excused themselves and escorted the women out of the pub. As Ripoll sat down in Rockford's vacated seat, Dracas handed the padd that the NKVD leader had handed Gantz back to Ripoll.

"Rockford's notes are on the padd." Gantz informed him, "As best as I can figure it, you have two targets. No one else is guilty of anything except philandering, which ain't none o' our business."

Ripoll chuckled, "Who said anything about targets?"

Gantz and Dracas gave him looks that made him quake. Dracas spoke, "Do not insult our intelligence, Mr. Ripoll. Your purpose in this endeavour is plain for all to see."

Ripoll began to look hunted but Gantz shook his head, "No worries, mate. We haven't told anybody. In fact, we're liftin' off o' this rock in a coupla hours."

Rockford and Radil returned. Rockford had a gleeful smirk while Radil was rather indifferent. Ripoll was immediately suspicious.

"When your little playmates come to, tell them we send our regards." Rockford patted Ripoll's cheek and then led the SID team out of the pub.

* * *

Later, Ripoll contacted Gregor, "Vasily, something's wrong. They were disdainful towards me and they beat my security detail into unconsciousness."

"You were caught in a lie." Gregor laughed, "People like this don't appreciate such things. As far as your female gorillas go, they're thugs. I want to beat them myself. Macen's people did us all a favour."

Ripoll was not mollified but he subsided, "They said they were leaving the planet."

"Good." Gregor replied, "I'd hate for Macen's ideological conscience to suddenly take hold before our plan is put into effect."

Lavelle suddenly spun around, "Vasily! The bay has been surrounded by KGP officers. More to the point, Rafe Villiers has sent word through our contact that the luncheon has been moved to an off site location."

"And that location is...?" Gregor wearily asked.

"The Grand Ballroom of the Kremlin Hilton." Lavelle reported.

"Prepare the submersible." Gregor ordered, "We'll run the blockade at nightfall."

"Do you still think that Macen is innocent?" Ripoll asked.

Gregor merely shrugged.

* * *

That night, the sub arrived from underneath the hidden dock inside the base. The weapon was loaded aboard as was Gregor and a few strong hands. The Operations staff stayed behind to distract the KGP and give the Mission teams time to do their work.

The sub surfaced at an inlet near the space docks. Ripoll and the rest of the Mission team were there waiting. They loaded the bomb into a HVAC lorry and provided three groundcars as escort.

Gregor took five automobiles with him and they headed off in another direction. While they thought that they were eluding the KGP they were being monitored, courtesy of the nanobugs, by the _Obsidian_. What the NKVD was unaware of was that the SID was mobilising to intercept them.


	13. Chapter 13

Macen and T'Kir joined the rest of the investigative team on the ground. They picked up their groundcars and departed the Customs House. Radil drove Macen and T'Kir. Dracas helmed the car containing Rockford and Gantz. However their ultimate destination was a mystery.

Macen commed Danan, "Talk to me Lees."

"Ripoll is guiding a lorry towards the downtown district." She replied, "Gregor is leading a larger contingent of cars towards Government house."

"Get on a party circuit with Radil and Dracas and guide them towards the lorry." Macen instructed.

"Are you sure?" Danan enquired, "What about Gregor?"

"Gregor is a feint." Macen informed her, "The bomb is on the truck."

"Right. Let me patch in to them." Danan closed the circuit and opened a new one.

* * *

Macen routed a comm address through the ship and reached Kirov, "Your Excellency, where is your luncheon being held?"

"At the Hilton." Kirov answered, "Why?"

"Inform your Special Unit to be prepared to evacuate at a moment's notice. Macen out." He instructed.

Kirov rushed to see Colonel Villiers.

* * *

"The next right turn should place you behind the NKVD units." Danan instructed.

Radil and Dracas ran the light to arrive on the NKVD's bumpers. Macen instructed Radil to catch up with the lorry's driver side. She punched the throttle and slid past the opposing groundcars and came up on the truck's right side.

Dracas swung his car in front of the responding NKVD units. He constantly blocked their attempts to drive past him. In response, the terrorists drew their weapons and began to fire.

Radil pulled the car up close to the truck and Macen leapt out and took a hold of a handhold and stood on the running boards. He jerked the driver's door open and pulled the man out of the seat and onto the pavement. He then climbed aboard.

The other cab member kicked out at Macen while the SID leader was trying to stabilise the lorry. The passenger threw himself at Macen and the two brawled while the truck madly careened down the road. In response, Radil and T'Kir drove in front off and around the reeling truck. T'Kir repeated Macen's manoeuvre and she boarded the passenger side, nerve pinched Macen's antagonist, and threw him out of the truck.

Macen grinned, "Welcome aboard! Glad you could make it."

T'Kir grinned back, "Wouldn't miss it."

Ripoll watched all of this from the guide car travelling in front of the HVAC lorry. He was dismayed that he had lost control of the situation but he realised it was far worse than anticipated when Macen accelerated and began to chase him. He instructed his driver to make a hairpin turn down an alley. Macen followed, pursued Ripoll out into and across the next street, and quickly smashed the car up against a storefront.

As Macen backed the truck up, straightened out, and got underway again, Radil, Dracas, and the pursuit vehicles came skidding out of the alleyway. The NKVD agents in the lead car were wildly shooting. The two rear passengers were up on the rear deck and the front seat passenger was leaned over the door firing.

Rockford, who seated in the rear of the KGP car shook her head, "These poozers wouldn't know accuracy if it bit them on the arse." She turned to Dracas, "Hit the brakes and let the lead car rear-end us."

"But..." Dracas trailed off.

"Just trust me, Joachim, and do it." Rockford reassured him.

Dracas nodded. Rockford moved out onto the rear deck. She sat in a crouch, poised for what was about to follow.

Dracas began decelerating. The pursuit car rear-ended the KGP cruiser. Rockford flew into action.

She leapt onto the NKVD's bonnet. Jumping off from there she went into a flying kick. The shooter behind the front seat passenger was knocked backward out of the car.

As she sank down into the seat, she delivered a sweeping kick to the head of the other rear-seat shooter and she flew out of the car. Quickly rolling off of her back she grabbed the gun hand of the remaining shooter. Beating it against the doorframe, the gunner lost his grip on the weapon. She then took a grip on both sides of his head and twisted. Hearing the snap of his vertebrae she focused all of her attention on the driver.

Leaping into the front seat, she grabbed the woman's head by the hair and began to pound her forehead against the steering yoke. The driver was rendered insensate within a few moments. Rockford kicked open the door and threw the driver out of the car. She then slid into place behind the yoke.

She struggled to fasten her safety harness while driving. Waiting until the last NKVD car was behind her, she slammed on the brakes. The car propelled itself into hers. The rear passengers flew over their car, her windshield and over her bonnet, driving headfirst into the pavement. The other two occupants had bounced off of their windshield and were now broken lumps of flesh.

Dracas reversed his car and met the site of the crash. Rockford shrugged off her harness. Civilian groundcars on Bolshevik lacked even the most rudimentary safety devices but the police cruisers were equipped with the most modern equipment.

Jumping into the back of the KGP car she smiled and waved Dracas on, "Don't worry. I'm fine."

"You're certain?" Dracas glanced back at her in the mirror.

"My system's been modified to take these things in stride." Rockford assured him, "I'll still want to see Tessa later just to be sure but I'm good to go for now."

All of their comm badges chirped at once. It was revealed to be Macen, "Follow me. We need to get this bomb as far away from people as possible. I'm headed for the old aviation centre. It's largely abandoned and should suit our needs."

"Why not beam it aboard the ship or underwater in the bay?" Rockford asked.

"I can't raise the _Obsidian_ so I have to assume the worst." Macen revealed, "Anyway, just follow me and hopefully we'll be fine."

"That'll be a first." Gantz grumbled.

* * *

In orbit, Forger asked Grace, "What's our status, Hannah?"

"We're still in orbit. We've been in orbit and will remain in orbit for the foreseeable future." Grace complained, "But we're ready to rock and ruin at a moment's notice."

Forger was about to make a comment when Jaycee Walker reported from Tactical, "Commander, we've got movement."

Walker had been tasked with monitoring orbital activity. Two orbital drydocks had shown increased activity today versus all their other time there. Forger was intrigued.

"What've you got for me, Jaycee?" she asked.

"Target Drydock One has launched a cutter." Walker reported.

"And?" Forger was waiting to be impressed.

"You're familiar with the general design of cutters, aren't you, Ma'am?" Walker asked.

"I am but why don't you lay out your line of reasoning." Forger urged.

"Cutters are high speed in-system impulse driven craft. They're lightly armed but not too lightly as to not be able to disable a stock freighter." Walker began, "This one's got warp drive and is armed as well as us."

Forger began to become concerned, "Where's it headed?"

"Directly towards us." Walker reported.

"Shields up!" Forger snapped, "Arm phasers and photons. Sound red alert! Hannah, max burn on the RCS thrusters, bring us to course bearing 078.5. Once we're there, engage impulse engines."

"What strength?" Grace enquired.

"One hundred percent." Forger answered. With that, the crew got busy.

* * *

When the _Obsidian_ was in position, Grace went to maximum impulse. The NKVD cutter had been hesitating due to the surveyor's being forewarned as to their intentions. They had expected fat and happy prey just blithely waiting around to be blown to hell. They had lost the element of surprise and didn't quite know what to do next.

They contacted Gregor and he angrily told them to get on with blowing them straight to hell. The crew complied and the _Razor's Edge _manoeuvred and took off in pursuit. Fortunately for them, the chase was still at sublight speeds and the cutter was the faster of the two ships.

* * *

Under orders, Grace reduced speed and brought the _Obsidian_ back around. Now the Outbound Ventures crew targeted the cutter. Once again, the cutter wasn't certain as how to respond.

Grace and Jaycee strafed the cutter. Grace immediately flipped the _Nova_-class ship hard over and engaged the target again. Jaycee pummelled the cutter with torpedoes.

Next, Grace engaged in a corkscrew pattern to evade enemy fire. The inexperienced gunners aboard the _Razor's Edge_ couldn't compensate. One last pass and the cutter's shields were down and a final torpedo barrage crippled her. They signalled for terms of surrender but the _Obsidian _crew didn't have time to celebrate.

"Commander!" Jaycee squawked, "A superliner has left port. An _armed_ superliner! Sensors report twenty-eight phaser mounts and twelve torpedo launchers."

"Well, isn't that just ducky?" Forger sarcastically queried no one in particular.

Danan sat down next her, "If I may, keep up the random, evasive tactics. These people seem way out of their depth."

"Yeah," Tessa quipped from the other side, "what she said."

Forger turned to face the EMH, "Tessa, what the hell are you doing on the bridge?"

"Have no fears, I'm in my Emergency Command Hologram mode." Tessa boasted.

"No, you're not!" Forger snapped, "You don't have any such mode."

"But I could." Tessa said wistfully.

"Tessa, honey, we're in a firefight. You need to be in Sickbay in case there are wounded." Danan glossed things over.

"Oh, okay." Tessa irritably snapped and blinked out of existence.

"Thank you for that." Forger said gratefully, "And for your tactical advice."

"I've been a First Officer." Danan smiled, "It comes with the territory."

"Hannah, make ready to intercept the superliner as soon as it closes into near space. I don't want any misses or near misses going into the orbital shipyards. And run as crazy a course as you can."

"Yes, Ma'am." Grace grinned.


	14. Chapter 14

As Macen's convoy headed down the road two cars came screeching out of the right intersection and slid in behind Dracas' car. A third and a fourth also appeared and moved in on either side of the lorry. Finally, Gregor's car slid in front of the truck from the intersection in front of the truck.

Macen accelerated and rear-ended Gregor's car. He hit it again and again but the NKVD Commander refused to budge. The car's to either side of the truck pushed up against it and tried to steer it.

Macen called Dracas and Radil off, using them to block the chase cars instead. After several moments of this Macen laughed. T'Kir looked at him as if he were mental.

"What's s'damn funny?" she demanded.

"They're taking us to the airport." He snickered.

"Y'r kiddin'." She remarked.

"Check the map reader." He suggested in good humour.

"I'll be..." she trailed off and then pointed out, "I betcha they got a nasty surprise waitin' for us."

"I wouldn't doubt it." Macen agreed.

"Should we warn the others?" she asked.

"Go ahead." Macen allowed, "I'm going to finish caving in Gregor's rear bumper."

* * *

Much to Forger's dismay, the crew of the superliner, _Juggernaut_, knew what they were doing. Their manoeuvrability was still slow given the nature of the beast but their gunners were top notch. The torpedoes were arrayed fore, aft, and in a circle surrounding the tube-like hull. In short, the _Obsidian _was getting bracketed and pummelled.

The _Juggernaut_, for all intents and purposes, closely resembled a 20th century _Alpha_-class submarine just on a massive scale. The "conning" tower contained the bridge and weapons control so that's where Forger concentrated her fire. The NKVD craft's shields were weakening, but then again, so were the _Obsidian's_.

Grace broke off from the attack and sailed into the orbital shipyards. She dove and wove her way through them until she came to a complete stop at the edge of where the drydocks ended. There she waited for the pursuing _Juggernaut_ to pass.

As the lumbering battleship sailed on by, Grace engaged the impulse engines and dove out at the NKVD liner. Her course was erratic but Jaycee was able to keep up. The NKVD gunners were slow to respond and the SID ship fired an entire volley at the conning tower. Its shields collapse and Jaycee applied the final touches to bring the behemoth under heel.

* * *

Macen's party pulled into the airport and came to rest on the concourse. All of Gregor's cars pulled forward and formed a line on front of the SID agents. Macen and the rest exited their vehicles and studied the stand-off.

"Bring us the weapon." Gregor shouted across the gulf dividing the two factions.

All the SID agents moved to the back of the truck. After unloading it, Macen and Dracas worked the controls. Macen took the hoverpallet and "wheeled" the bomb out in front of the truck. Macen held up a small remote control.

"The bomb is armed and the controller is set to my biosignature." Macen announced, "In fifteen minutes it goes off. If I die, it goes off. If I do nothing, it goes off."

"You're insane!" Gregor shouted back.

"No, I'm upwind. You're not." Macen revealed, "Also this is an aerosol agent. We have microfilter masks. Do you?"

"Shoot them!" Gregor commanded. The vigilantes opened fire en masse. Macen ducked behind the truck. Radil took cover behind the door of her car. Dracas did the same while Gantz and Rockford ducked behind the boot.

Macen activated his comm badge, "Macen to team: put on your masks."

The SID team returned fire and the NKVD terrorists sought cover behind the groundcars. It was a stand-off.

"What's this crap do?" T'Kir asked.

"It's a toxin that emulates a hemorrhagic fever." Macen explained, "Think Ebola on a quantum scale. It kills in minutes rather than days."

"Yuck." T'Kir commented.

Macen felt a surge in the Currents and he pulled T'Kir back just as a phaser bursts sliced the air where her head had been mere seconds before. Macen hit his comm badge and spoke with Rockford, "Celeste, we have a sniper on the roof behind us."

"I'm on it." She replied. She glanced around. The only place in the open marketplace suitable for a sniper's post was a three story building directly behind their position.

Turning to Dracas, she spoke, "Joachim, come with me."

They sprinted to the entrance of the mini-tower. Rockford pointed at the ground, "Hold this position no matter what."

"You can count on me." Dracas vowed.

Rockford's smile was hidden behind her mask, "I know. That's why I brought you."

"Strength and Honour." He saluted her and she entered the building.

* * *

"These guys are just plain stupid." Macen angrily remarked, "They think they can deactivate the bomb with my fingerprint. They don't realise that it's also keyed to my biosignature. I'm dead and it goes off irregardless. If they try to diffuse it, it blows."

"They're desperate. What'ya expect. If they had any brains they'd have bugged out ten minutes ago." T'Kir replied as another phaser blast lanced out and struck right above her head, "Dammit! I'm sick of that."

"Give Celeste time." Macen counselled, "She won't let us down."

* * *

Rockford slowly opened the stairwell door. It was located behind the lift and discreetly hidden from view from the sniper's estimated position. Keeping her weapon in a two-handed grip she stealthily moved forward. Ahead of her, a NKVD specialist lay prone with his rifle trained on the SID team.

The fact that he was an amateur was plain for all to see. He concentrated on targets not easily reached. Radil and Gantz were vulnerable but ignored by the gunner. He also rushed his shots and completely missed up until now.

Rockford felt sorry for him as she shot him in the back and killed him. She dragged the body back out of the way. Next, she took his place.

She sighted in the far left flank of the NKVD position and fired. The woman went down as the high powered phaser bolt impacted her face. The man next to her panicked and ducked. Rockford killed the man on the other side of him.

"Gregor!" the survivor yelled into his comm badge, "They've taken Anatoly's position. They've already taken out two of my men."

"Flank them and capture their sniper." Gregor ordered.

Five vigilantes rushed the building. Radil killed one of them. Rockford killed another. Then they reached Dracas.

Dracas picked the leader off with his pistol. Then he holstered the pistol and drew his sword. The two surviving terrorists laughed as Dracas rushed them. Dracas stabbed the first through the heart even as he took aim. Dracas spun, pulling the sword out and inverting it like a knife. The sword buried itself into the last vigilante's chest. He jerked it out and she went down gasping her own blood.

Rockford continued to keep Gregor's remaining forces pinned down. Macen used the lull in activity to call out to Gregor, "Gregor, if you surrender now no one needs to die. I'm detonating the bomb in one minute. If you value your life and the lives of those under you you'll throw down your arms and step out from behind your vehicles."

Gregor addressed the huddled mass of NKVD volunteers, "He's bluffing. No one in their right mind will detonate a biogenic weapon."

"We were going to." A voice countered.

"We're at war with the corruption of the government." Gregor rebutted the argument.

"What if they feel the same way?" another voice asked.

"We pledged ourselves to give our lives for our cause." Gregor reminded them, "Do you want to go back on your oaths now?"

They thought about it and said, "No." one by one.

"How much time do we have?" Gregor wondered.

"Five seconds." Came the answer.

"Whatever happens, I'm proud of you all." Gregor said.

* * *

The minute passed and the bomb started outgassing. As Macen had said, the wind was in their favour. The virulent mist passed over the huddling NKVD agents. Within thirty seconds they were up and gagging. They were coughing up blood as the capillaries in their lungs burst. Blood poured out of their eyes and massive bruises appeared across their bodies as veins and arteries haemorrhaged. Within a minute, they all died.

"Remind me to rate that as the most disgusting thing that I've ever seen." T'Kir sombrely commented.

"The weapon the Cardassians used against Severus IV was worse." Macen grimly commented.

"I was hangin' out with Ro on that one." T'Kir reminded him, "You and Lees handled the investigation into what happened."

"Be glad." Macen replied and removed his mask. Everyone else was removing theirs as well. He commed Rockford, "All right Celeste. You can take off your mask and join us at ground level."

"Roger that." Rockford replied.

* * *

After the group was gathered together and driving away in the KGP cars, Macen tried comming the _Obsidian_ again. To his delight, he reached Forger, "Shannon, what happened? How are you?"

Forger chuckled, "We're all right but Dracas is going to have some work when he returns."

"You met a particular superliner." Macen surmised.

"That and a new type of cutter." Forger confirmed, "We took a pounding but we gave worse than we got. Gerrit Gren is currently aboard the superliner holding the crew in chains until the KGP can arrive."

"Sounds good." Macen applauded, "If you can patch me in with Kirov, I'll see about relieving you."

"Will do." Forger replied in chipper tones.

* * *

Kirov was less than happy, "You may have stopped the KGP but someone has mobilised the Red Army. They're marching on Kremlin."

"Yes, the leader of the NKVD was a Red Army colonel. He had the support of the General Staff." Macen revealed, "They either don't know that the assassination failed or don't care."

"You must help us, Captain." Kirov insisted.

Macen sighed, "I'll do what I can. Macen out." He turned to Radil, "Head for Government House. We're not out of this yet."

"Figures." Radil grumped.


	15. Chapter 15

Kirov was holding a conference with the KGP leadership, his Special Unit, and the Red Army liaison. The liaison had passed a computerised, biorhythmic lie detector test with flying colours. His very loyalty to the present government had caused him to be left out of the planning sessions for taking over Kremlin.

Macen was running the meeting. Turning to the KGP Commissioner he asked, "Have you tracked down who authorised that shipment containing the weapon?"

The Commissioner nodded, "My officers found Dustan Ripoll trying to delete the record. We recovered the file and traced the shipment back to Rafe Villiers."

Colonel Villiers stiffened even as Macen asked, "And he would be...?"

"The leader of the strongest opposition party." Kirov answered.

Macen addressed Villiers, "Colonel, you had a strong reaction to the revelation of this other Villiers' identity. Care to explain why?"

"He's my brother." Villiers admitted, "And he may have received some of the information that ended up with the NKVD from me."

The Commissioner turned to Villiers, "Sadly Colonel, you are stripped of your rank, post, and are under arrest." The Commissioner then nodded towards a Special Unit detachment, "Escort Mr. Villiers to a cell."

"Have you apprehended Rafe Villiers?" Macen asked.

The Commissioner scowled, "He left the planet this morning. We had no reason to suspect him so we didn't detain him. His flight plan said he'd return in a week's time."

"In time to assume the premiership." Kirov bitterly muttered.

"My officers can't hold back the army, even if our numbers _are _equal." The Commissioner bitterly protested.

"You don't want to." Macen replied, "We want them to surround Government House. This is a battle for hearts and minds. It must be fought here or not at all."

"If you think so." Kirov was less than certain.

Macen took him aside, "Let's have a little chat and then you go on with the planetary news services."

* * *

Kirov appeared on over two billion viewscreens, "Comrades, it is time for me to step down. While it is true that recent events have propelled me to make this step I must clarify a few points: the NKVD has been crushed. They were attempting to use a biogenic weapon on Government House, thereby killing all of its inhabitants, and were caught by a premature detonation of the weapon. No civilians other than the NKVD were harmed."

Kirov intently stared into the vid pick-up, "The weapon's arrival on our planet was cleared by Rafe Villiers. The MP left Bolshevik early this morning before the plot to assassinate me could get underway. As such, the KGP has issued warrants for his arrest. All of the KGP's evidence in these matters is available on the InfoNet. I suggest you check the facts for yourselves."

Kirov delivered the final hammer blow, "Special elections will be held in three weeks. All Ministers of Parliament and the Duma will participate in these elections. If victorious, they will serve out the rest of their term. If they are ousted by a new Minister-elect, they will step down and the new MP will serve out the rest of the term. The usual elections will transpire in two and four years' time. I will hand over my office to whoever is elected Prime Minister by the Duma. I am endorsing no candidate. I urge you all to weigh your choices carefully and make the best decision that you can. Good day to you all."

The transmission ended and millions raced for their comp/comms to either access the InfoNet or to query their news service of choice.

* * *

Unfortunately, none of the Red Army troops saw this announcement. The General Staff did, however, did and had decided to stage a coup irregardless. As the three tanks and a dozen troop carriers rolled into the Red Square, they deployed, all aiming their weapons at Government House.

"Come out!" _the _General yelled over a master comm.

Kirov appeared on the portico and Macen advanced. He also carried a master comm. It transmitted to every comm badge within range, which thanks to satellites, was considerable.

"Hold your fire and hear me out." Macen urged them, "Kirov has already announced new elections or have you already heard this?"

Macen let this sink in before continuing, "What's the point of erecting a military government unless the military refuses to share power or step down? What's the point of demolishing a building when it's the government itself that you object to and that same government will be replaced in three weeks?"

"You have a choice to make, ladies and gentlemen." Macen concluded, "You can sacrifice everything your ancestors strove to create when they created a democracy or you can revert to a single party rule: the rule of the army. Or you can lay down your arms and trust the system to keep on working. There are no guarantees either way. Choose wisely."

The spread out division looked to one another. Eventually one or two laid down their rifles. The choice was echoed as it swept across the crowd.

_The_ General was apoplectic, "Pick up your rifles, damn you!" He pulled out his phaser and shot those troopers nearest him. A high powered phaser blast sliced though his chest and he slumped over. The troopers gazed up to the roof of Government House. Celeste Rockford waved and then re-entered the house though a dormered window.

As medics rushed to the wounded, Macen handed off the master comm to Kirov, "They need to hear a familiar voice. Tell them what you've already told the planet."

Kirov nodded, "Yes, of course."

Macen went back into Government House where his team was waiting for him in the foyer, "Ready to go?"

"Are they going to be okay?" T'Kir asked.

"I think they'll be better off than they have been for a long time." Macen opined. He commed Telrik, "Telrik, six to transport."

* * *

A week later, aboard _Serenity Station_, Danan and Riker were having a romantic evening in her quarters. Riker had regaled her with tales of his latest mission. She had deferred commenting upon hers. Now they were snuggling on the couch and the moment had come for her to share her recent revelation.

She scooted to the other end of the couch so that she could face him, "Tom, our mission made me realise something. Something important."

Riker smiled, "Are you going to share?"

"I've realised that I'm not only in love with you but I'm _deeply_ in love with you. I've reached a point where I can't imagine my life without you in it." She confessed, "what I'm trying to say is: Tom Riker, will you marry me?"

Riker started to look uncomfortable and Danan pressed on, "C'mon Tom, I'm proposing to you."

"Lees, I'm flattered..." Riker began.

"_Flattered_?" her voice was flat, "I'm baring my soul and you're merely flattered?"

"Lisea, let me explain, you've drilled it into my head that we should keep things monogamous but loose. I've finally come to terms with that concept. I think it's too soon to rock that boat. I can't wrap my head around this mentality just to throw it away and start again. Paradigm shifts without a clutch aren't my speciality."

Riker took her hands in his own, "A few months ago, maybe even a few weeks ago I would have jumped at the chance but now I'll guess we'll just have to wait."

"I'd like to be alone now." Danan informed him.

"Of course. You need time to digest this." Riker rose and left.

Danan drew her knees into her chest and sobbed all alone.

* * *

Radil stepped out and viewed the family shrine. Gerrit Gren joined her, "They've really improved the upkeep ever since the spoonheads left."

"And the remainder of the old cell have taken up farming around here?" Radil asked.

"Yes, and about this time of night they'll be gathered at Reiv's Tavern." Gerrit revealed.

Radil offered Gerrit a ghost of a smile, "Let's go then."

"Are you sure?" Gerrit asked.

She touched his arm, "It'll do me a world of good."

He grinned, "Then let's go."

* * *

Dracas and Stan Guthrie walked hand in hand down the beach. They'd gone to Miami and were soaking up the sun. So far it had been the longest uninterrupted vacation they had spent together, and they had three more weeks planned!

* * *

Gantz and Tessa were playing springball in the _Obsidian's _cargo bay. To his surprise, Gantz was winning. After each point, Tessa dug in her heels and came out like a razorcat but in the end, her lack of concentration cost her two matches out of three.

"Not yer day, eh Missy?" Gantz chuckled.

"Where's Galen 3?" she blurted, "He hasn't come to see me."

"He's lurking about the corridors." Gantz smirked, "I told him to get lost until we'd finished our game."

"You...you...you big bully!" Tessa yelled and then disappeared.

Gantz grinned, "Maybe the kid stands a chance after all."

* * *

Grace readied herself. This luge course had been ended to be the roughest on the planet Odin. It was the fifth planet from the system primary, whereas Barrinor was the third, it was a largely arctic world. The equatorial range was quite temperate. A co-axial tilt brought all four seasons to the upper and lower hemispheres. It was still a cold, rugged world versus its warmer sibling.

Odin had made a specialty of so-called "winter" sports, which could be enjoyed year round all over the planet. Grace's current devil-may-care adventure was the luge. She'd made two runs a day for three days now. Her first few runs had been amateurish since she was indeed a novice. Her last couple of times had been competitive. She was closing in on the track record and she was determined to get it today.

The buzzer went off and she launched herself into action. Turns, banks, and straights passed by a in a flurry of mere seconds. When she crossed the line and had to brake, she slowed to a crawl and was able to deploy her feet to stop her.

She was mobbed by the waiting crowd. Finally looking up to see the time, she realised she'd missed tying the record by three hundredths of a second. Grace grinned but knew she had another run later today. It would be her final run and then she would try out ski jumping. Thanking her well wishers she promised them all that her afternoon's performance would be the one to watch.

* * *

Macen and T'Kir joined Amanda Forger and Edward Noyce for dinner at a specialty Mediterranean restaurant on the Riviera. They had wide enough tables to accommodate Forger's special needs. Both of the admirals appeared highly relaxed and rather celebratory.

"Thank you for a job well done." Noyce summed up.

Macen accepted his toast while T'Kir relished in it. They were still studying the menu with some interest. Noyce decided to put them at ease, "Bob adores this place and so will you."

"Bob" of course was Robert Tavar Johnson. This particular admiral was as equally known for his palate as his diplomatic troubleshooting. He was also a friend of Macen and T'Kir's.

The waiter came and took their orders. Next another waiter came and refilled their drinks. When this was done, Macen decided to get candid.

"I reviewed the material that the KGP harvested out of Rafe Villiers flat. His accomplice within the NKVD was his staffer, Nicole Harrington. They were carrying an after hours liaison and swapping secrets at the same time." Macen began, "More disturbing was the revelation that just days before the biogenic weapon was in play, Endrick Gaston was a guest of Villiers. We have notes compiled by Villiers, possibly as leverage for plea bargaining, that implicate both the Meirkus Conglomeration and the Orion Syndicate in the scheme to overthrow Bolshevik's government."

"Why would the Syndicate wish to overthrow Bolshevik's government?" Noyce wondered.

"The plan was to secede from the Federation once Villiers assumed the mantle of Premier. He would theoretically hold a majority of votes in the Duma and would be able to push his agenda forward." Macen explained, "Afterwards, he'd agreed to join the Meirkus Conglomeration. The pairing of the two industrial entities makes sense but this would have a two-fold effect since it would open up Bolshevik as a distribution centre for the Syndicate."

"But why the top level co-operation?" Noyce was still slightly catching up.

"I don't know what Alynna or Amanda here has told you but the Syndicate and the Conglomeration are headed by the one and same man. Bertram Sindis is that man and he is a threat to the safety and well being of every Federation citizen." Macen revealed, "Sindis has been directly or indirectly involved with my last four cases. He's moved from petty crimes to territorial acquisition. My impression upon meeting him was that he would stop at nothing from carving out an empire beholden only to him."

"No." Noyce said in a steely tone, "I hadn't been informed."

Forger shrugged, "Alynna wanted to keep a lid on it until we had confirmed Sindis' intentions."

"Sounds like your man here has done that." Noyce was not appeased, "I suggest we take this up with the Council of Five tomorrow."

Forger nodded, "I'll inform Alynna. Now, if we could recapture the mood. We're to celebrate the demise of the NKVD and stopping of a revolution."

Noyce was a tad leery but he lifted his glass, "Hear, hear."

* * *

Macen and T'Kir returned to the Dorchester. Once in their rooms, they began to unwind.

"I thought ol' Noyce was gonna rip 'Manda a new one." T'Kir giggled.

"So did I." Macen confessed as he checked the messages.

"Anythin' interestin'?" T'Kir enquired.

"Celeste has finished checking out her agency on Shiva. Apparently the acquisition of it by Outbound Ventures has gone smoothly. She's happy and is headed for _DS9_."

T'Kir grinned, "Lookin' for nookie."

"Undoubtedly." Macen hefted a pillow in his hand, "I wonder?"

"Wonder what?" T'Kir blithely asked.

"If this is good for a pillow fight." Macen said and then backhanded her in the ribs.

"Oooh you!" T'Kir growled, "You're gonna pay for that. She gathered up a selection of pillows and went on the offensive.

After much laughter, and the shredding of a dozen pillows that the staff was quite alarmed to have to replace, they settled down and held each other as they drifted off to sleep. Unlike recent days, their sleep was content and trouble free.


End file.
